88 -':•■ 


B    3    S3T    bll 


POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S  AVEDDING, 

AND  OTHER  TALES. 


POLLY  PEABLOSSOFS  WEDDING; 


AND 


OTHER    TALES. 


BY    THE 
HON.  J.  B.   LAMAR,    HON.  R,   M.   CHARLTON, 

AST)    THE    AUTHORS    OF    "MAJOR    JONES'S    COURTSHIP,"    "STREAKS    OF 
SQUATTER    LIFE,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


EDITED     BY 


T.    A.    B  U  II  K  E,    ES  Q., 

EDITOK    OF    THE    "  HORW    OF    MIRTH.'5 


SQtftlj  Numerous  fllustrctfons 


philadelphia: 

GETZ      &      BUCK, 

NO.    4     IIAKT'S     BUILDINGS 

1  8  5  4. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1851,  by 
A.   HART, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 

John  C.  Robb,   Printer.  No.   8  Pear  St. 


THIS    VOLUME   OF    SKETCHES 

IS    DEDICATED 

TO 

JOHNSON    J.    HOOPER;    Esq., 

OF    LAFAYETTE,    ALABAMA, 
(AUTHOR  OF"  ADVENTURES  OS"  SIMON  SUGGS,) 

AS    A  TOKEN    OF   RESPECT,  AND    A    SLIGHT   RETURN  FOR 

THE    MANY    FAVOURS  WniCII    THE   EDITOR    IS 

TROUD   TO   ACKNOWLEDGE   AT   niS 

HANDS. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


The  present  volume  is  made  up  of  sketches  from  many 
of  the  best  Humorous  Writers,  and  several  of  them  have 
been  so  re-written  by  their  Authors,  as  to  be  very  different 
from  what  they  were  when  first  published  in  Magazines, 
&c.  Several  others  have  not  appeared  before  for  many 
years,  and  will  be  new  to  most  readers. 

To  those  gentlemen  who  were  kind  enough  to  furnish 
their  articles  revised  and  corrected,  the  Editor  returns  his 
sincere  thanks. 
Madison,  Ga. 

CO 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S  WEDDING 13 

TIIE  UNCLAD  HORSEMAN 24 

THE  THIMBLE  GAME 28 

WAR'S  YURE  HOSS? 41 

A  LOSING  GAME  OF  POKER 44 

MIKE  nOOTER'S  BAR  STORY 49 

ELECTRICITY  AS  A  TEMPERANCE  AGENT        -  55 

M'CRACKEN'S  EXPERIENCE 69 

BINGO 61 

HOW  SALLY  HOOTER  GOT  SNAKE-BIT 67 

THE    "EXPERIENCE"  OF    THE    BLACKSMITH    OF   THE 

MOUNTAIN  PASS 76 

"PERTATERS  AND  TERNUPS" 89 

THE  COON-HUNT;  OR,  A  FENCY  COUNTRY       ...  94 

"DOING"  A  SHERIFF 98 

A  CASE  OF  SUPPOSITION 102 

THE  AMATEUR  TICKET-VENDER  AT  TnE  VARIETIES       -  104 

(9) 


10  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  TELEGRAPH  IN  ST.  LOUIS 108 

SMOKING  A  GRISLY 110 

WHERE  JOE  MERIWEATHER  WENT  TO     -        -        -        -  114 

AN  ARKANSAS  ORIGINAL 119 

A  FEAREUL  TALE  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI  122 

A  FRIGHTFUL  ADVENTURE  IN  MISSISSIPPI                        -  126 

PRACTICAL  JOKES  AND  BAD  LIQUOR  132 

MISSISSIPPI  LEGISLATURE 137 

SHIFTING  THE  RESPONSIBILITY 143 

HOW  MIKE  HOOTER  CAME  VERY  NEAR  "WOLLOPLNG" 

ARCH  COONEY 146 

THE  FIRST  PIANO  LN  NORTHERN  ILLINOIS        -        -        -  154 

PRINTING  A  HORSE 159 

THE  WAY  OLD  BILL  "WENT  OFF" 162 

A  SLEEP-WALKING  INCIDENT 166 

THE  LAST  BLOODY  DUEL  FOUGHT  LN  OHIO        -        -        -  176 

ANECDOTES  OF  WESTERN  TRAVEL  181 

A  RUNNING  FIGHT  UPON  THE  RACKENSAC        -       -        -  191 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTKATTONS: 


DESIGNED   BY   ELLIOTT,   AND   ENGRAVED   BY   GIHON. 


POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S  WEDDING. 

ELECTRICITY  AS  A  TEMPERANCE  AGENT. 

"DOING"  A  SHERIFF. 

HOW  MIKE  HOOTER  CAME  VERY  NEAR  "WOLLOPING" 
ARCH  COONY. 


POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S  WEDDING. 

BY   THE    HON.    JOHN    B.  LAMAR. 

Of  the  writer  of  the  following  sketch  we  only  know  that  he  is  a 
practising  lawyer  in  Macon,  Geo.,  and  an  ex-member  of  Con- 
gress. Except  this  sketch,  and  one  or  two  others  of  a  similar 
character  (one  of  which  we  publish),  he  has  written  nothing 
for  the  press.  This  is  to  be  regretted,  as  he  certainly  has  the 
ability  to  write  well. 

<' My  stars!  that  parson  is  powerful  slow  a-coming! 
I  reckon  he  wa'nt  so  tedious  gitting  to  his  own  wedding 
as  he  is  coming  here,"  said  one  of  the  bridesmaids  of 
Miss  Polly  Peablossom,  as  she  bit  her  lips  to  make  them 
rosy,  and  peeped  into  a  small  looking-glass  for  the  twen- 
tieth time. 

"  He  preaches  enough  about  the  shortness  of  a  life- 
time, "  remarked  another  pouting  Miss,  "  and  how  we 
ought  to  improve  our  opportunities,  not  to  be  creeping 
along  like  a  snail,  when  a  whole  wedding  party  is  wait- 
ing for  him,  and  the  waffles  are  getting  cold,  and  the 
chickens  burning  to  a  crisp." 

"  Have  patience,  girls,  maybe  the  man's  lost  his  spurs 
and  can't  get  along  any  faster,"  was  the  consolatory 
appeal  of  an  arch-looking  damsel,  as  she  finished  the  last 
of  a  bunch  of  grapes. 

2  (13) 


14  POLLY    PEABLOSSOM'S    WEDDING. 

"  Or  perhaps  his  old  fox-eared  horse  has  jumped  out 
of  the  pasture,  and  the  old  gentleman  has  to  take  it 
a-foot,"  surmised  the  fourth  bridesmaid. 

The  bride  used  industrious  efforts  to  appear  patient 
and  rather  indifferent  amid  the  general  restiveness  of  her 
aids,  and  would  occasionally  affect  extreme  merriment ; 
but  her  shrewd  attendants  charged  her  with  being  fidgety  y 
and  rather  more  uneasy  than  she  wanted  folks  to  believe. 

"Hello,  Floyd!"  shouted  old  Captain  Peablossom  out 
of  doors  to  his  copperas-trowsered  son,  who  was  enter- 
taining the  voung  beaux  of  the  neighbourhood  with  f  ats 
of  agility  in  jumping  with  weights — «  Floyd,  throw  down 
them  rocks,  and  put  the  bridle  on  old  Snip,  and  ride 
down  the  road  and  see  if  you  can't  see  Parson  Gympsey, 
and  tell  him  hurry  along,  we  are  all  waiting  for  him. 
He  must  think  weddings  are  like  his  meetings,  that  can 
be  put  off  to  the  <  Sunday  after  the  fourth  Saturday  in 
next  month,'  after  the  crowd's  all  gathered  and  ready  to 
hear  the  preaching.  If  you  don't  meet  him,  go  clean  to 
his  house.  I  'spect  he's  heard  that  Bushy  Creek  Ned's 
here  with  his  fiddle,  and  taken  a  scare." 

As  the  night  was  wearing  on,  and  no  parson  had  come 
yet  to  unite  the  destinies  of  George  Washington  Hodg- 
kins  and  "the  amiable  and  accomplished"  Miss  Polly 
Peablossom,  the  former  individual  intimated  to  his  in- 
tended the  propriety  of  passing  off  the  time  by  having  a 
dance. 

Polly  asked  her  Ma,  and  her  Ma,  after  arguing  that 
it  was  not  the  fashion  in  her  time,  in  North  Car'lina,  to 
dance  before  the  ceremony,  at  last  consented. 

The  artist  from  Bushy  Creek  was  called  in,  and  after 
much  tuning  and  spitting  on  the  screws,  he  struck  up 
"Money  Musk;"  and  away  went  the  country-dance, 
Polly  Peablossom   at  the  head,  with  Thomas  Jefferson 


POLLY    TEABLOSSOM'S   WEDDING.  15 

Horigkins  as  her  partner,  and  George  Washington  Hodg- 
kins  next,  witb  Polly's  sister,  Luvisa,  for  his  partner. 
Polly  danced  to  every  gentleman,  and  Thomas  Jefferson 
danced  to  every  lady ;  then  up  and  down  in  the  middle 
and  hands  all  round.  Next  came  George  Washington 
and  his  partner,  who  underwent  the  same  process  ;  "  and 
so  on  through  the  whole,"  as  Daboll's  Arithmetic  says. 

The  yard  was  lit  up  by  three  or  four  large  lightwood 
fires,  which  gave  a  picturesque  appearance  to  the  groups 
outside.  On  one  side  of  the  house  was  Daniel  Newnan 
Peablossom  and  a  bevy  of  youngsters,  who  either  could 
not  or.  did  not  desire  to  get  into  the  dance — probably  the 
former — and  who  amused  themselves  by  jumping  and 
wrestling.  On  the  other  side  a  group  of  matrons  sat 
under  the  trees,  in  chairs,  and  discoursed  of  the  myste- 
ries of  making  butter,  curing  chickens  of  the  pip  and 
children  of  the  croup,  besides  lamenting  the  misfortunes 
of  some  neighbour,  or  the  indiscretion  of  some  neigh- 
bour's daughter,  wrhohad  run  away  and  married  a  circus- 
reader.  A  few  pensive  couples,  eschewing  the  "  giddy 
dance,"  promenaded  the  yard  and  admired  the  moon,  or 
"  wondered  if  all  them  little  stars  were  worlds  like  this." 
Perhaps  they  may  have  sighed  sentimentally  at  the  folly 
of  the  musquitoes  and  bugs  which  were  attracted  round 
the  fires  to  get  their  pretty  little  wings  scorched  and  lose 
their  precious  lives  ;  or  they  may  have  talked  of  "  true 
love,"  and  plighted  their  vows,  for  aught  we  know. 

Old  Captain  Peablossom  and  his  pipe,  during  the  while, 
were  the  centre  of  a  circle  in  front  of  the  house  who  had 
gathered  around  the  old  man's  arm-chair  to  listen  to  his 
"twice-told  tales"  of  "hair-breadth  'scapes,"  of  "the 
battles  and  sieges  he  had  passed ;"  for  you  must  know 
the   captain   was    no   "  summer   soldier    and    sunshine 


16  POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S   WEDDING. 

patriot ;"  he  had  burned  gunpowder  in  defence  of  his 
beloved  country. 

At  the  especial  request  of  Squire  Tompkins,  the  cap- 
tain narrated  the  perilous  adventures  of  Newnan's  little 
band  among  the  Seminoles.  How  "bold  Newnan"  and 
his  men  lived  on  alligator  flesh  and  parched  corn,  and 
marched  barefooted  through  saw-palmetto ;  how  they  met 
Bowlegs  and  his  warriors  near  Paine's  Prairie,  and  what 
fighting  was  there.  The  amusing  incident  of  Bill  Cone 
and  the  terrapin  shell,  raised  shouts  of  laughter  among 
the  young  brood,  who  had  flocked  around  to  hear  of  the 
wars.  Bill  (the  "  Camden  Bard,"  peace  to  his  ashes), 
as  the  captain  familiarly  called  him,  was  sitting  one  day 
against  the  logs  of  the  breastwork,  drinking  soap  out  of 
a  terrapin  shell,  when  a  random  shot  from  the  enemy 
broke  the  shell  and  spilt  his  soup,  whereupon  he  raised 
his  head  over  the  breastwork  and  sung  out,  "  Oh !  you 
villain,  you  couldn't  do  that  again  if  you  tried  forty  times." 
Then  the  captain,  after  repeated  importunities,  laid  down 
his  pipe,  cleared  his  throat,  and  sung, 

"  We  marchecZ  on  to  our  next  station, 
The  Ingens  on  before  did  hide, 
They  shot  and  killed  Bold  Newnan's  nigger, 
And  two  other  white  men  by  his  side.'; 

The  remainder  of  the  epic  we  have  forgotten. 

After  calling  out  for  a  chunk  of  fire  and  relighting  his 
pipe,  he  dashed  at  once  over  into  Alabama,  in  General 
Floyd's  army,  and  fought  the  battles  of  Calebee  and 
Otassee  over  again  in  detail.  The  artillery  from  Baldwin 
county  blazed  away,  and  made  the  little  boys  aforesaid 
think  they  could  hear  thunder  almost,  and  the  rifles  from 
Putnam  made  their  patriotic  young  spirits  long  to  revenge 
that  gallant  corps.     And  the  squire  was  astonished  at  the 


POLLY  peablgssom's  wedding.  17 

narrow  escape  his  friend  had  of  falling  into  the  hands  of 
Weatherford  and  his  savages,  when  lie  was  miraculously 
rescued  by  Timpoochie  Barnard,  the  Utchee  chief. 

At  this  stage  of  affairs,  Floyd  (not  the  general,  but  the 
ambassador)  rode  up,  with  a  mysterious  look  on  his  coun- 
tenance. The  dancers  left  off  in  the  middle  of  a  set,  and 
assembled  around  the  messenger,  to  hear  the  news  of  the 
parson.  The  old  ladies  crowded  up,  too,  and  the  captain 
and  the  squire  were  eager  to  hear.  But  Floyd  felt  the 
importance  of  his  situation,  and  was  in  no  hurry  to  divest 
himself  of  the  momentary  dignity. 

"Well,  as  I  rode  on  down  to  Boggy  Gut,  I  saw — " 

"Who  cares  what  the  devil  you  saw  ?"  exclaimed  the 
impatient  captain  ;  "  tell  us  if  the  parson  is  coming,  first, 
and  you  may  take  all  night  to  tell  the  balance,  if  you  like, 
afterwards."  . 

"I  saw — "  continued  Floyd,  pertinaciously. 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  did  you  see?"  asked  Mrs.  Pea- 
blossom. 

"I  saw  that  some  one  had  tooken  away  some  of  the 
rails  on  the  cross  way,  or  they  had  washed  away  or  some- 
how—" 

"  Did  anybody  ever  hear  the  like  ?"  said  the  captain.  I 

"  And  so  I  got  down,"  continued  Floyd,  "  and  hunted 
some  more  and  fixed  over  the  boggy  place." 

Here  Polly  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  requested, 
with  a  beseeching  look,  to  know  if  the  parson  was  on  the 
way. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  presently,  Polly.  And  when 
I  got  to  the  run  of  the  .creek,  then — " 

"Oh,  the  devil!"  ejaculated  Captain  Peablossom, 
"  stalled  aorain  !" 

"  Be  still,  honey,  let  the  child  tell  it  his  own  way — he 
always  would  have  his  way,  you  know,  since  we  had  to 
2* 


18  POLLY   PEABLOSSOM'S    WEDDING. 

humour  him  so  when  he  had  the  measles,"  interposed  the 
old  lady. 

Daniel  Newnan  Peablossom,  at  this  juncture,  facetiously 
lay  down  on  the  ground,  with  the  root  of  an  old  oak  for 
his  pillow,  and  called  outyawningly  to  his  pa,  to  "  wake 
him  when  brother  Floyd  had  crossed  over  the  tun  of  the 
creek  and  arrived  safely  at  the  parson's."  This  caused 
loud  laughter. 

Floyd  simply  noticed  it  by  observing  to  his  brother, 
"  Yes,  you  think  you're  mighty  smart  before  all  these 
folks!"  and  resumed  his  tedious  route  to  Parson  Gymp- 
sey's,  with  as  little  prospect  of  reaching  the  end  of  his  story 
as  ever. 

Mrs.  Peablossom  tried  to  coax  him  to  "fist"  say  if  the 
parson  was  coming  or  not.  Polly  begged  him,  and  all 
the  bridesmaids  implored.  But  Floyd  "  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing." 

"  When  I  came  to  the  Piney-flat,"  he  continued, 
"  old  Snip  seed  something  white  over  in  the  bay-gall,  and 

shy'd  clean  out  o'  the  road,  and "  where  he  would  have 

stopped,  would  be  hard  to  say,  if  the  impatient  captain 
had  not  interfered. 

That  gentleman,  with  a  peculiar  glint  of  the  eye,  re- 
marked— ■"  Well,  there's  one  way  I  can  bring  him  to  a 
showing,"  as  he  took  a  large  horn  from  between  the  logs, ' 
and  rung  a  "  wood-note  wild"  that  set  a  pack  of  hounds 
to  yelping.  A  few  more  notes  as  loud  as  those  that  issued 
from  i*  Roland's  horn  at  Roncesvalles"  was  sufficient  invi- 
tation to  every  hound,  foist,  and  "  cur  of  low  degree,"  that 
followed  the  guests,  to  join  in  the  chorus.  The  captain 
was  a  man  of  good  lungs,  and  "  the  way  he  did  blow  was 
the  way,"  as  Squire  Tompkins  afterwards  very  happily 
described  it ;  and  as  there  were  in  the  canine  choir  some 
thirty  voices  of  every  key,  the  music  may  be  imagined 


POLLY    PEABLOSSOM  S    WEDDING.  19 

better  than  described.  Miss  Tabitha  Tidwell,  the  first 
bridesmaid,  put  her  hands  to  her  ears  and  cried  out,  "  My 
stars!  we  shall  all  git  blow'd  away!'1 

The  desired  effect  of  abbreviating  the  messenger's  story 
was  produced,  as  that  prolix  personage  in  copperas  pants, 
was  seen  to  take  Polly  aside,  and  whisper  something  in 
her  ear. 

"  Oh,  Floyd?  you  are  joking;  you  oughtn't  to  serve 
me  so.  An't  you  joking,  bud  V1  asked  Polly,  with  a  look 
that  seemed  to  beg  he  would  say  yes. 

"  It's  true  as  preaching,"  he  replied — "  the  cake's  all 
dough!" 

Polly  whispered  something  to  her  mother,  who  threw 
up  her  hands,  and  exclaimed,  "Oh,  my!"  and  then 
whispered  the  secret  to  some  other  lady,  and  away  it 
went.  Such  whispering  and  throwing  up  of  hands  and 
eyes,  is  rarely  seen  at  a  quaker  meeting.  Consternation 
was  in  every  face.  Poor  Polly  was  a  very  personification 
of  "  patience  on  a  monument,  smiling  green  and  yellow 
melancholy." 

The  captain,  discovering  that  something  was  the  mat- 
ter, drove  off  the  dogs,  and  inquired  what  had  happened 
to  cause  such  confusion.  "  What  the  devil's  the  matter 
now  ?"  he  said.  "  You  all  look  as  down  in  the  mouth  as 
we  did  on  the  Santqffee  (St.  Fe),  when  the  quartermaster 
said  the  provisions  had  all  give  out.  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter— won't  somebody  tell  me  ?  Old  'oman,  has  the  dogs 
got  into  the  kitchen  and  eat  up  all  the  supper,  or  what 
else  has  come  to  pass  ?  out  with  it !" 

"Ah,  old  man,  bad  news!"  said  the  wife,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  you  are  all  getting  as  bad  as  Floyd, 
iterryfying*  a  fellow  to  death." 

"  Parson  Gympscy  was  digging  a  neio  horse  trough  and 


2*0  POLLY  peablossom's  wedding. 

cut  his  leg  to  the  bone  with  the  foot-adze,  and  can't  come — 
Oh,  dear!" 

"  I  wish  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  'a  done  it  a  week  ago, 
so  we  <  mouV  'a  got  another  parson,  or,  as  long  as  no 
other  time  would  suit  but  to-day,  I  wish  he  had  cut  his 
derned  eternal  head  off!" 

"Oh,  my!  husband,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Peablossom. 
Bushy  Creek  Ned,  standing  in  the  piazza  with  his  fiddle, 
struck  up  the  old  tune  of 

"We'll  dance  all  night,  'till  broad  day-light, 
And  go  home  with  the  gals  in  the  morning." 

Ned's  hint  caused  a  movement  towards  the  dancing 
room,  among  the  young  people,  when  the  captain,  as  if 
waking  from  a  revery,  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Oh, 
the  devil !  what  are  we  all  thinking  of?  why  here's  Squire 
Tompkins,  he  can  perform  the  ceremony.  If  a  man  can't 
marry  folks,  what's  the  use  of  being  squire  at  all  ?" 

Manna  did  not  come  in  better  time  to  the  children  of 
Israel  in  the  wilderness,  than  did  this  discovery  of  the 
worthy  captain  to  the  company*  assembled.  It  was  as 
vivifying  as  a  shower  of  rain  on  corn  that  is  about  to  shoot 
and  tassel,  especially  to  G.  W.  Hodgkins  and  his  lady- 
love. 

Squire  Tompkins  was  a  newly  elected  magistrate,  and 
somewhat  diffident  of  his  abilities  in  this  untried  depart- 
ment. He  expressed'  a  hint  of  the  sort,  which  the  cap- 
tain only  noticed  with  the  exclamation,  "  hoot  toot!" 

Mrs.  Peablossom  insinuated  to  her  husband,  that  in  her 
day  the  "  quality"  or  better  sort  of  people  in  North  Ca'- 
lina,  had  a  prejudice  "  agin"  being  married  by  a  magis- 
trate ;  to  which  the  old  gentleman  replied,  "  None  of  your 
nonsense,  old  lady,  none  of  your  Duplin  county  aristo- 
cracy about  here,  now.    The  better  sort  of  people,  I  think 


POLLY  peablossom's  wedding.  21 

you  say!  Now,  you  know  North  Ca'Hna  ain't  the  best 
State  in  the  Union,  nohow,  and  Duplin 's  the  poorest 
county  in  the  State.  Better  sort  of  people,  is  it  ?  Qualify, 
eh!  Who  the  devil's  better  than  we  are?  An't  we 
honest  ?  An't  we  raised  our  children  decent,  and  learned 
them  how  to  read,  write  and  cipher  ?  An't  I  fouH  under 
Newnan  and  Floyd  for  the  country  ?  Why,  darn  it !  we 
are  the  very  best  sort  of  people.  Stuff!  nonsense  !  The 
wedding  shall  go  on  ;  Polly  shall  have  a  husband."  Mrs. 
P.'s  eyes  lit  up — her  cheek  flashed,  as  she  heard  "  the  old 
North  State"  spoken  of  so  disparagingly  ;  but  she  was  a 
woman  of  good  sense,  and  reserved  the  castigation  for  a 
future  curtain  lecture. 

Things  were  soon  arranged  for  the  wedding ;  and  as 
the  old  wooden  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  struck  one,  the 
bridal  party  were  duly  arranged  on  the  floor,  and  the  crowd 
gathered  round,  eager  to  observe  every  twinkle  of  the 
bridegroom's  eye,  and  every  blush  of  the  blooming  bride. 

The  bridesmaids  and  their  male  attendants  were  ar- 
ranged in  couples,  as  in  a  cotillion,  to  form  a  hollow 
square,  in  the  centre  of  which  were  the  squire  and 
betrothing  parties.  Each  of  the  attendants  bore  a  candle  ; 
Miss  Tabitha  held  hers  in  a  long  brass  candlestick,  which 
had  belonged  to  Polly's  grandmother,  in  shape  and  length 
somewhat  resembling  "  Cleopatra's  needle ;"  Miss  Luvisa 
bore  a  flat  tin  one  ;  the  third  attendant  bore  such  an 
article  as  is  usually  suspended  on  a  nail  against  the  wall, 
and  the  fourth  had  a  curiously  devised  something  cut  out 
of  wood  with  a  pocket-knife.  For  want  of  a  further 
supply  of  candlesticks,  the  male  attendants  held  naked 
candles  in  their  hands.  Polly  was  dressed  in  white,  and 
wore  a  bay  flower  with  its  green  leaves  in  her  hair,  and 
the  whisper  went  round  :  "  Now  donH  she  look  pretty?" 
George  Washington  Ilodgkins  rejoiced  in  a  white  satin 


22  POLLY  peablossom's  wedding. 

stock,  and  a  vest  and  pantaloons  of  orange  colour;  the 
vest  was  straight-collared,  like  a  continental  officer's  in 
the  revolution,  and  had  eagle  buttons  on  it.  They  were 
a  fine-looking  couple. 

When  everything  was  ready,  a  pause  ensued,  and  all 
eyes  were  turned  on  the  squire,  who  seemed  to  be  under- 
going a  mental  agony,  such  as  Fourth  of  July  orators  feel 
when  they  forget  their  speeches,  or  a  boy  at  an  exhibition, 
when  he  has  to  be  prompted  from  behind  the  scenes.  The 
truth  wras,  Squire  Tompkins  was  a  man  of  forms,  but  had 
always  taken  them  from  form-books,  and  never  trusted 
his  memory.  On  this  occasion  he  had  no  "  Georgia  Jus- 
tice," or  any  other  book  jrorn  which  to  read  the  marriage 
ceremony,  and  was  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  He  thought 
over  everything  he  had  ever  learned  "  by  heart,"  even  to 

-  "Thirty  days  hath  the  month  of  September, 

The  same  may  be  said  of  June,  April,  November;" 

but  all  in  vain ;  he  could  recollect  nothing  that  suited 
such  an  occasion.  A  suppressed  titter  all  over  the  room 
admonished  him  that  he  must  proceed  with  something, 
and  in  the  agony  of  desperation,  he  began, 

«  <  Know  all  men  by  these  presents  that  I — "  here  he  paused 
and  looked  up  to  the  ceiling,  while  an  audible  voice  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  was  heard  to  say,  "  He's  drawing  up 
a  deed  to  a  tract  of  land,"   and  they  all  laughed. 

"  Li  the  name  of  God,  AmenV — he  began  a  second 
time,  only  to  hear  another  voice  in  a  loud  whisper  say — 
"  He's  making  his  will  now.  I  thought  he  couldn't  live 
long,  he  looks  so  powerful  bad." 

11  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord — n 

was  the  next  essay,  when  some  erudite  gentleman  re- 
marked, "  He  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth." 


TOLLY  teablossom's  wedding.  23 

-<■  0  yes  !  Oycs!"  continued  the  squire.  One  voice  re- 
plied, "Oh  no!  oh  no!  don't  let's;"  another  whispered, 
«  No  ball !"  Some  person  out  of  doors,  sung  out,  "  Come 
into  court!"  and  the  laughter  was  general.  The  brides- 
maids spilt  the  tallow  from  their  candles  all  over  the  floor, 
in  the  vain  attempt  to  look  serious.  One  of  them  had  a  red 
mark  on  her  lip  for  a  month  afterwards,  where  she  had  bit 
it.  The  bridegroom  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
took  them  out  again  ;  the  bride  looked  as  if  she  would  faint 
— and  so  did  the  squire  ! 

But,  the  squire  was  an  indefatigable  man,  and  kept 
trying.     His  next  effort  was — 

w  To  all  and  singular  the  sher — "  "  Let's  run  !  he's 
going  to  level  on  us,"  said  two  or  three  at  once. 

Here  a  gleam  of  light  flashed  across  the  face  of  Squire 
Tompkins.  That  dignitary  looked  around  all  at  once, 
with  as  much  satisfaction  as  Archimedes  could  have  felt, 
jvvhen  he  discovered  the  method  of  ascertaining  the  spe- 
cific gravity  of  bodies.  In  a  grave  and  dignified  manner, 
he  said,  "  Mr.  Hodgkins,  hold  up  your  right  hand." 
George  Washington  obeyed,  and  held  up  his  hand.  "  Miss 
Polly,  hold  up  yours."  Polly  in  her  confusion  held  up 
the  left  hand.  "  The  other  hand,  Miss  Peablossom." 
And  the  squire  proceeded,  in  a  loud  and  composed  man- 
ner, to  qualify  them  :  "  You  and  each  of  you  do  solemnly 
swear,  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  and  the  present 
company,  that  you  ivill  perform  toward  each  other,  all  and 
singular  the  functions  of  a  husband  or  wife — as  the  case 
may  be — to  the  best  of  your  knoivledge  and  ability,  so  help 
you  God!" 

4l  Good  as  wheat !"  said  Captain  Peablossom.  «  Polly, 
my  gal,  come  and  kiss  your  old  father  ;  I  never  felt  so 
happy  since  the  day  I  was  discharged  from  the  army,  and 
set  out  homewards  to  see  your  mother." 


THE  UNCLAD  HORSEMAN. 

BY  WM.   T.  THOMPSON,  ESQ. 

As  the  author  of  "Major  Jones's  Courtship,"  Mr.  Thompson  has 
gained  a  lasting  reputation  as  a  humorous  writer.  He  first 
became  known  to  the  Southern  people  as  editor  of  the  Augusta 
Mirror,  a  literary  paper  published  at  Augusta,  Ga.  This  paper 
was  afterwards  merged  into  the  Family  Companion,  a  magazine 
issued  monthly  at  Macon,  Ga.,  and  edited  by  Mr.  T.  and  Mrs. 
Sarah  Lawrence  Griffin.  The  magazine  was  discontinued, 
however,  for  want  of  patronage,  and  Mr.  Thompson  became 
editor  of  the  Western  Continent,  at  Baltimore.  After  several 
years'  connexion  with  this  paper,  he  disposed  of  it,  and  is  now 
editor  of  the  Morning  News,  of  Savannah,  Ga.,  one  of  the  best 
daily  papers  published. 

In  addition  to  "Major  Jones's  Courtship,"  Mr.  T.  has  published 
"  Major  Jones's  Sketches  of  Travel,"  and  the  "  Chronicles  of 
Pineville."  His  pictures  of  Georgia  life  are  true  to  nature, 
and  prove  him  to  be  not  inferior,  in  that  line,  to  Longstreet,  the 
celebrated  author  of  "  Georgia  Scenes." 

Widowers  should  look  out  for  breakers.  Absalom 
Nippers  was  a  widower,  and  one  of  the  particularest  men, 
perhaps,  that  ever  lived ;  though  some  people  said  that 
when  his  wife  was  alive  he  used  to  dress  as  a  common 
field  hand,  and  didn't  use  to  take  any  pains  with  himself 
at  all.  Every  body  knows  how  he  spruced  up  about  six 
weeks  after  Mrs. Nippers  died,  and  how  he  went  to  church 
regular  every  Sunday  ;  but  they  didn't  have  no  confidence 
in  his  religion,  and  used  to  say  he  only  went  to  church  to 
show  his  new  suit  of  mourning,  and  to  ogle  the  gals. 

With   such  a  character  among  the  wimmin,  it  ain't  to 

(24) 


THE    UNCLAD    HORSEMAN.  2f> 

be  supposed  that  ho  stood  any  chance  of  petting;  another 
Mrs.  Nippers  near  home  ;  and  whether  he  was  as  bad  to 
his  first  wife  as  they  said  he  was,  or  not,  one  thing  was 
certain,  he  had  to  look  abroad  for  some  one  to  fill  her 
place. 

Mr.  Nippers  was  very  lucky  in  finding  a  gal  just  to  his 
mind,  wThat  lived  about  ten  miles  from  his  plantation. 
Nancy  Parker  was  rich,  and  though  she  wasn't  very 
young  nor  very  handsome,  she  belonged  to  Mr.  Nippers' 
church,  and  filled  his  eye  exactly  ;  so  he  sot  in  courtin' 
her  with  all  his  might.  Ten  miles  wTas  a  good  long  ride, 
and  as  he  was  an  economical  man,  he  used  to  ride  over 
to  old  Mrs.  Parker's  plantation  every  Sunday  morning  to 
go  to  church  with  the  family,  take  dinner  with  them,  and 
ride  back  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  In  that  way  he 
managed  to  kill  twTo  birds  with  one  stone ;  that  is,  to  ad- 
vance the  prospect  of  his  happiness  on  this  earth  and  the 
wTorld  to  come  at  the  same  time,  without  losing  any  of 
his  week-day  time. 

A  ride  over  a  dusty  road  is  apt  to  soil  a  gentleman's 
dry  goods,  and  make  him  and  his  horse  very  tired.  How- 
ever, Mr.  Nippers  didn't  mind  the  fatigue  as  much  as  his 
horse;  but  in  a  matter  such  as  he  had  in  hand,  it  was 
very  important  that  he  should  make  as  good  an  impression 
as  possible,  so  he  adopted  a  plan  by  which  he  was  able 
to  present  himself  before  the  object  of  his  affections,  in 
order,  with  his  Sunday  coat  as  clean,  and  his  blooming 
ruffles  as  fresh  and  neat  as  if  they  had  just  come  out  of  a 
band-box.  This  was  a  happy  expedient,  and  nobody  but 
a  widower  lover  would  think  of  it.  He  used  to  start  from 
home  with  his  new  coat  and  shirt  tied  up  in  a  pocket 
handkerchief,  and  after  riding  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  Mrs.  Parker's  plantation,  he  would  turn  ofT  into  a 
thicket  of  chinkapin  bushes  and  there  make  his  rural 
3 


26  THE    UNCLAD    HORSEMAN. 

toilet.  One  bright  Sunday  morning  Mr.  Nippers  had  ar- 
rived at  this  dressin'  ground.  It  was  an  important  occa- 
sion. Everything  was  promising  and  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  pop  the  question  that  very  day.  There  was 
no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  he  would  return  home  an  en- 
gaged man  ;  and  he  was  reckonin'  over  to  himself  the 
value  of  Miss  Nancy's  plantation  and  niggers,  while  he 
was  settin'  on  his  horse  makin'  his  accustomed  change  of 
dress.  He  had  dropped  the  reins  on  his  horse's  neck, 
what  was  browsin'  about,  makin'  up  his  last  night's 
scanty  feed  from  the  bushes  in  his  reach,  and  kickin'  and 
stampin'  at  such  flies  as  was  feedin'  on  him  in  return. 

"  I'll  fix  the  business  this  time,"  ses  Mr.  Nippers  to 
himself.  "  I'll  bring  things  to  a  pint  this  time,"  ses  he, 
and  he  untied  his  handkerchief  with  his  clean  clothes,  and 
he  spread  them  on  his  saddle-bow. 

M  Wo,  Ball !"  says  he — «  I've  just  got  to  say  the  word, 
and — wo!"  ses  he  to  his  horse,  what  was  kickin'  and 
rearin'  about.  "Wo!  you  old  fool! — and  the  business 
is  settled  jist  like  fallin'  off  a  log." 

He  was  drawin'  his  shirt  over  his  head,  when  Ball  gave 
a  sudden  spring,  what  like  to  made  him  lose  his  balance, 
u  Wo!"  ses  he—but  before  he  could  get  his  arms  out  of 
the  sleeves,  Ball  was  wheelin'  and  kickin'  like  wrath  at 
something  that  seemed  to  trouble  him  behind.  Down 
went  the  clean  clothes,  shirt  and  all,  on  the  ground. 
«  Wo !  Blast  yer  pictur — wo,  now !"  ses  Mr.  Nippers, 
grabbm'  at  the  reins.  But  before  he  could  get  hold  of 
'em,  Ball  was  off  like  a  streak  of  lightnin',  with  a  whole 
swarm  of  yellow  jackets  round  his  tail. 

Mr.  Nippers  grabbed  hold  of  the  mane  and  tried  to  stop 
his  horse,  but  it  was  no  use.  Away  went  the  infuriated 
Ball,  and  takin'  the  road  he  was  used  to  travelling  another 
moment  brought  him  to  the  house.     The  gate  was  open, 


THE    UNCLAD    HORSEMAN.  27 

and  in  dashed  the  horse  with  the  almost  naked  Nippers 
hangin' to  his  neck,  hollerin',  "Stop  him,  hornets!"  as 
loud  as  he  could  scream. 

On  came  the  dogs,  and  after  the  horse  they  went  round 
the  house,  scatterin'  the  ducks  and  chickens,  and  terri- 
fyin'  the  little  niggers  out  of  their  senses.  The  noise 
brung  the  women  to  the  door. 

"  Don't  look,  Miss  Nancy  !  hornets  !  wo !  ketch  him  !" 
shouted  the  unclad  Nippers,  as,  with  spent  breath,  he 
went  dashin'  out  of  the  gate  agin,  with  the  dogs  still  after 
him,  and  his  horse's  tail  switchin'  in  every  direction  like 
a  young  hurricane.  Miss  Nancy  got  one  glimpse  of  her 
forlorn  lover,  and  before  she  could  get  her  apron  to  her 
eyes,  she  fainted  at  the  awful  sight,  (!)  while  his  fast 
recedin'  voice  cryin'  "Hornets!  stop  him!  hornets!"  still 
rung  in  her  ears, 


THE  THIMBLE  GAME. 

An  Omitted  Georgia  Scene. 

BY    T.    W.    LANE. 

The  subjoined  capital  sketch  is  from  the  pen  of  quite  a  young 
writer,  residing  in  Augusta,  Georgia.  He  has  written  but  little, 
though  one  or  two  of  his  articles  have  been  quite  popular;  one, 
entitled  "Baby  Jumpers."'  having  been  extensively  copied. 
Mr.  L.  is  talented,  and  only  needs  to  apply  himself  to  become 
distinguished. 

Forty  years  ago,  Augusta,  Ga.,  presented  a  very  dif- 
ferent appearance  from  the  busy  and  beautiful  city  of  the 
present  day.  Its  groceries,  stores,  and  extensive  ware- 
houses were  few  in  number,  and  the  large  quantities  of 
cotton,  and  other  produce,  which  are  still  conveyed  thi- 
ther, were  transported  entirely  by  wagons.  The  sub- 
stantial railroad,  which  links  it  with  the  richest  and  most 
beautiful  regions  of  the  empire  state  of  the  South,  was  a 
chimera,  not  yet  conceived  in  the  wild  brain  of  Fancy 
herself;  and  many  of  the  improvements,  luxuries,  and 
refinements,  which  now  make  it  the  second  city  in  the 
state,  were  then  "  in  the  shell."  Yet,  by  the  honest  yeo- 
manry of  forty  years  ago,  Augusta  was  looked  upon  as 
Paris  and  London  are  now  viewed  by  us.  The  man  who 
had  never  been  there,  was  a  cipher  in  the  community — 
nothing  killed  an  opinion  more  surely,  nothing  stopped 
the  mouth  of  "  argyment"  sooner,  than  the  sneering 
taunt,  "Pshaw!  you  ha'n't  been  to  Augusty"  The  at- 
mosphere of  this  favoured  place  was  supposed  to  impart 


THE   TniMBLE   GAME.  29 

knowledge  and  wisdom  to  all  who  breathed  it,  and  the 
veriest  ass  was  a  Solon  and  an  umpire,  if  he  could  dis- 
course fluently  of  the  different  localities,  and  various 
wonders,  of  Augusty. 

The  farmers  of  the  surrounding  country  paid  a  yearly 
visit  to  Augusta,  and  having  sold  their  "crap"  of  the 
great  Southern  staple,  and  laid  in  their  stock  of  winter 
necessaries,  returned  home  with  something  of  that  holy 
satisfaction  with  which  the  pious  Mohammedan  turns  his 
face  homeward  from  Mecca.  The  first  step  upon  arriv- 
ing in  the  city  was  to  lay  aside  their  "  copper  as-colour  e&s" 
fabrics  of  the  wife's  or  daughter's  loom,  and  purchase  a 
new  suit  of  "^/ore-clothes."  These  were  immediately 
donned,  and  upon  returning  home,  were  carefully  em- 
balmed, nor  again  permitted  to  see  the  light  until  the 
next  Sunday  at  "meetin',"  when  the  farmer,  with  head 
erect  and  ample  shirt-collar,  strutted  up  the  aisle,  the  lion 
of  the  occasion,  the  "observed  of  all  observers"  till  the 
next  Sabbath,  when  his  neighbour  returning  with  his  new 
suit,  plucked  off  his  laurels  and  twined  them  green  and 
blooming  upon  the  crown  of  his  own  shining  beaver. 
These  annual  trips  wer.e  the  event  and  era  of  the  year,  and 
the  farmer  returned  to  his  home,  big  with  importance  and 
news.  The  dishonesty  and  shrewdness  of  "  them  Gim- 
blit  fellers,"  (Cotton-Buyers,)  the  extortions  of  hotel- 
keepers,  the  singular  failures  of  warehouse  steelyards  to 
make  cotton-bales  weigh  as  much  in  Augusta  as  at  home, 
the  elegant  apparel  of  the  city  belles  and  beaux,  and  the 
sights  and  scenes  which  greeted  their  astonished  gaze, 
formed  the  year's  staple  of  conversation  and  discussion  ; 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  who  experienced  the 
greater  delight — the  farmer  in  relating  his  wondrous 
adventures,  or  his  wife  and  daughters  in  listening  to  them 
with  open  mouths,  uplifted  hands,  and  occasional  breath- 
3* 


30  THE   THIMBLE   GAME. 

less  ejaculations  of  «  Good  Lord  look  down  !"  "  Oh !    go 
away!"  or  "  Shut  up!"  "  You  don't  ses  so!" 

Early  in  the  fall  of  18 — ,  farmer  Wilkins  announced 
to  his  son  Peter,  that  as  he,  "  his  daddy,"  would  be  too 
busy  to  make  the  usual  trip  in  «  propria  persona,"  he, 
Peter,  must  get  ready  to  go  down  to  Augusty  and  sell  the 
«  first  load."  Now  Peter  Wilkins,  Jun.,  a  young  man 
just  grown,  was  one  of  the  celebrities  of  which  his  settle- 
ment  (neighbourhood)  boasted.  He  was  supposed  to  have 
cut  his  eye-teeth — to  have  shaken  off  that  verdancy  so 
common  to  young  men  ;  and  while  he  filled  up  more  than 
half  his  father's  capacious  heart,  to  the  discomfiture  of 
Mahal y  (his  mother),  and  Suke  and  Poll  (his  sisters),  he 
was  the  pet  and  darling  of  the  whole  neighbourhood.  An 
only  son,  the  old  man  doted  upon  him  as  a  chip  of  the  old 
block,  and  was  confident  that  Peter,  in  any  emergency  of 
trade,  traffic,  or  otherwise,  would  display  that  admirable 
tact,  and  that  attentive  consideration  for  "  No.  One,"  for 
which  Mr.  P.  Wilkins,  Sr.,  was  noted.  A  horse-swap  with 
a  Yankee,  in  which  Peter,  after  half  an  hour's  higgling, 
found  himself  the  undisputed  owner  of  both  horses  and 
ten  dollars  boot,  was  the  corner-stone  of  his  fame.  Every 
trip  to  Augusta  added  another  block ;  and  by  the  time 
Peter  arrived  at  the  years  of  discretion,  he  stood  upon  a 
lofty  structure  with  all  the  green  rubbed  off,  the  pride  of 
his  family  and  the  universal  favourite  of  his  acquaint- 
ances. The  night  before  his  departure  the  family  were 
all  gathered  around  the  roaring  fire,  Mrs.  and  the  Misses 
Wilkins  eno-ag^ed  in  ironing  and  mending:  our  hero's  Sun- 
day  apparel,  the  old  man  smoking  his  pipe,  and  occa- 
sionally preparing  Peter  for  the  ordeal  in  Augusta,  by 
wholesome  advice,  or  testing  his  claim  to  the  tremendous 
confidence  about  to  be  reposed  in  him,  by  searching 
questions,  as  to  how  he  would  do  in  case  so-and-so  was 


THE   THIMBLE    GAME.  31 

to  turn  up.  To  this  counsel,  however,  our  hero  paid  less 
attention  than  to  the  preparations  making  around  him  for 
his  comely  appearance  in  the  city.  Nor,  until  he  got 
upon  the  road,  did  he  revolve  in  his  mind  the  numerous 
directions  of  his  father,  or  resolve  to  follow  to  the  letter 
his  solemn  parting  injunction  to  "  bewar  of  them  gimblit 
fellers  down  to  Augusty."  "  Durn  it,"  said  he  to  himself, 
as  the  thought  of  being  "  sold"  crossed  his  mind,  "  durn 
it,  they'll  never  make  gourds  out  o'  me.  Pve  bin  to 
Augusty  before,  and  ef  I  don't  git  as  much  fur  that  thur 
cotton  as  anybody  else  does  fur  thurn,  then  my  name  ain't 
Peter  Wilkins,  and  that's  what  the  old  'ooman's  slam  book 
says  it  is." 

Arrived  in  the  city,  he  drove  around  to  one  of  the  ware- 
houses, and  stood  against  the  brick  wall,  awaiting  a  pur- 
chaser. Presently  a  little  man  with  a  long  gimlet  in  his 
hand  came  out,  and  bade  our  hero  a  polite  «  Good  morn- 
ing." 

"  Mornin',"  said  Peter,  with  admirable  coolness,  as 
he  deliberately  surveyed  the  little  man  from  head  to  foot, 
and  withdrew  his  eyes  as  if  not  pleased  with  his  appear- 
ance. The  little  man  was  dressed  in  the  "  shabby-gen- 
teel "  style,  a  costume  much  in  vogue  at  that  day  among 
men  of  his  cloth,  as  combining  plainness  enough  for  the 
country-folk,  with  sufficient  gentility  to  keep  them  on 
speaking  terms  with  the  more  fashionable  denizens  of  the 
then  metropolis.  The  little  man  seemed  in  no  way  dis- 
concerted by  Peter's  searching  gaze,  and  a  close  observer 
might  have  perceived  a  slight  smile  on  his  lip,  as  he  read 
the  thoughts  of  our  hero's  bosom.  His  self-confidence, 
his  pride,  his  affected  ease  and  knowing  air,  were  all 
comprehended,  and  ere  a  word  had  passed  the  lion  knew 
well  the  character  of  his  prey.  In  the  purchase  of  the 
cotton,  however,  the  little  man  sought  no  advantage,  and 


32  THE   THIMBLE   GAME. 

even  offered  our  hero  a  better  price  than  any  one  else  in 
the  city  would  have  given  him.  To  our  hero's  credit  be 
it  said,  he  was  not  loath  to  accept  the  offer ;  15J  cents 
was  above  the  market,  by  at  least  a  quarter,  and  the  old 
man  had  told  him  to  let  it  slide  at  fifteen  rather  than  not 
sell,  so  the  bargain  was  closed,  and  our  hero  and  the 
"  Gimblit-man"  went  out  into  the  yard  to  settle. 

Seating  himself  on  a  cotton  bale,  the  buyer  counted  out 
the  money,  which  our  hero  made  safe  in  his  pocket,  after 
seeing  that  it  was  «  giniwine"  and  tallied  with  the  amount 
stated  in  the  bill  of  sale.  A  few  sweet  pills  of  flattery 
administered  to  our  hero,  soon  made  him  and  the  Gim- 
blit-man  sworn  friends ;  and  it  was  in  consideration  of 
his  high  regard,  that  the  Gimblit-man  consented  to  ini- 
tiate him  into  the  mysteries  of  a  certain  game,  yclept 
"  Thimble  Rig,"  a  game  which,  our  hero  was  told,  would 
yield  him  much  sport,  if  successfully  played  up  at  home 
among  the  boys  ;  and  would,  when  properly  managed,  be 
to  him  a  never-failing  source  of  that  desirable  article, 
"  pocket-change."  To  this  proposition  our  hero  readily 
assented,  delighted  with  the  idea  of  playing  off  upon  the 
boys  up  at  home,  who  hadn't  been  toAugusty;  and 
already  began  to  revel  in  the  visions  of  full  pockets,  "when, 
to  his  silent  horror,  the  little  man  took  from  his  pocket  a 
hundred-dollar  bill,  and  very  irreverently  rolled  it  into  a 
small  round  ball. 

Three  thimbles  were  next  produced,  and  the  game 
began. 

«  Now,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  am  going  to  hide  this 
little  ball  under  one  of  these  thimbles,  all  before  your 
eyes,  and  I  want  you  to  guess  where  it  is.-' 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  go  it — I'm  ready,'  and  the  shift- 
ing game  began.  To  the  apparent  astonishment  of  the  little 
man,  our  hero  guessed  right  every  time.     No  matter  how 


THE   THIMBLE    GAME.  33 

rapid  the  changes,  Peter  invariably  lifted  the  thimble  from 
the  ball,  and  had  begun  to  grow  disgusted  with  the  game, 
little  dreaming  how  soon  he  was  to  prove  its  efficacy  as  a 
source  of  revenue,  when  the  little  man  suddenly  checked 
his  hand. 

"  Wrong,"  said  he,  with  a  friendly  smile  ;  "the  ball  is 
not  under  the  middle  thimble,  but  under  that  next  you." 

"  Darned  ef  it  is  though  !"  responded  Peter  ;  "  I  ain't 
as  green  as  you  Gusty  folks  thinks.  Blamed  ef  I  don't 
know  whar  that  ball  is  jist  as  well  as  you  does,  and  dod- 
d rapped  ef  I  don't  bet  four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars 
no  cents  (the  price  of  the  cotton)  agin  the  load  o'  cotton, 
that  it's  under  the  middle  thimble." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  with  another  smile,  "you 
are  wrong,  and  I'd  hate  to  win  your  money." 

That  smile  deceived  Peter — it  manifested  a  friendly 
consideration  for  his  welfare,  which  he  felt  he  did  not  need, 
and  after  bullying  the  "  Gimblit-man"  for  a  few  minutes, 
he  succeeded  in  inveigling  him  (as  he  thought)  into  a  bet, 
which  was  duly  closed  and  sealed,  to  the  entire  satisfac- 
tion of  his  friend  !  Alas  for  poor  Peter !  he  had  awakened 
the  wrong  passenger.  But  the  idea  of  being  too  smart 
for  an  Augusty  feller,  and  he  was  sure  he  had  cornered  one 
this  time,  was  too  great  a  temptation  for  him  to  withstand. 
"  Drot  it,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  seen  him  put  it  under 
that  ere  middle  thimble,  I  seen  it  myself,  and  I  know  it's 
thar,  and  why  not  win  the  old  man's  cotton  back  when  it's 
jest  as  easy  as  nothin  ?  And  ef  I  do  win  it,  why  in  course 
the  old  man  can't  claim  more'n  four  hundred  and  fifty-one 
dollars,  no  how.  (Peter  forgot  that  the  profits  to  be  realized 
ought  of  course  to  belong  to  the  owner  of  the  capital  in- 
vested.) The  time  me  and  that  Yankee  swapped  critters, 
warn't  I  thar  ?  Hain't  I  cut  my  gums  ?  Don't  the  old 
man,  yes,  and  all  the  settlement,  say  I'm  smart,  and  then 


34  THE  THIMBLE   GAME. 

thar's  Kitty  Brown,  I  reckon  she  ort  to  know,  and  .don't 
she  say  I'm  the  peertest  feller  in  our  parts  ?  Pre  bin  to 
Augusty,  and  this  time,  dod-drapped  ef  I  don't  leave  my 
mark." 

The  result  we  need  hardly  relate.  Peter  was  tempted — 
tempted  sorely,  and  he  fell.  Sick  at  heart,  he  ordered 
Bob,  the  driver,  to  turn  his  mules  homeward,  and  late  on 
Saturday  evening  he  entered  the  lane  which  led  to  his 
father's  house.  The  blow  was  now  to  come  ;  and  some 
time  before  the  wagon  got  to  the  house,  Peter  saw  his 
father,  and  mother,  and  sisters,  coming  out  to  meet  him. 
At  last  they  met. 

"  Well,  son,"  said  the  old  man,  « I  s'pose  you've  been 
well."  Here  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  the  gals  commenced 
hugging  and  kissing  Peter,  which  he  took  very  coolly,  and 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  felt  he  was  getting  a  favour 
which  he  didn't  deserve. 

"  Reasonably  well,"  said  Peter,  in  reply  to  his  father's 
question  ;  H  but  I've  lost  it." 

"  Lost  what  ?"  said  his  father. 

"  Lost  U.n 

"  Lost  the  dockyments  ?"  said  the  old  man. 

"No,  here  they  are,"  said  Peter,  handing  the  papers 
containing  the  weights  of  his  cotton,  to  his  father,  who 
began  to  read,  partly  aloud,  and  partly  to  himself — 

"Eight  bags  of  cotton— 350— 400— 348— 550— 317 
— 15^  cents  a  pound — sold  to  Jonathan  Barker.  Very 
good  sale,"  said  he;  "  I  knowed  you'd  fix  things  rite, 
Peter."  The  wagon  by  this  time  had  reached  the  house, 
and  turning  to  Bob,  the  old  man  told  him  to  put  the  mo- 
lasses in  the  cellar,  and  the  sugar  and  coffee  in  the  house. 

"  Ain't  got  no  'lasses,  massa,"  said  Bob,  grinning  from 
ear  to  ear. 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  "  we  havn't  got  none  ;  we  lost  it." 


115 

THE  THIMBLE  GAME.  °° 

ft  Lost  it  j    How  on  airth  could  you  lose  a  barrel  of 

molasses  ?"  . 

u  We  never  had  it,"  said  Bob. 

ft  Heavens  and  airth!"  said  the  old  man,  W-&* 
to  Bob  and  then  to  Peter,  «  what  do  you  mean  ?  What 
do  you  mean  ?     What,  what,  w-h-a-t  in  the  d-e-v-i-1  da 

y"niousmarster-  Mr.  Wilkins,  don't  swar  so,"  said 
hi*  wife  bv  wav  of  helping  Peter  out. 

<  st,    "  said  the  farmer,  -  do  you  call  that  swarnng 
Darned  ef  I  don't  say  wussin  that  d'recley,  ef  they  don't 
tell  me  what  they  mean." 

ft  Why,  father,"  said  Peter,  «  I've  lost  it.  I  ve  lost  the 

money."  ... 

«  Well,  and  couldn't  you  find  it  i  _ 

ft  I  didn't  lose  it  that  way,"  said  Peter 

«  You  ain't  been  a  gamblin'  I  hopes  »  said  the  old  man  ; 
a  you  ain't  been  runnin'  agin  none  of  them  Pharo  banks 

d°rBrTngAmSeSle's,"  saidPeter,  «  andl'U  show 

vou  how  I  lost  it. 

*  The  thimbles  were  brought,  and  Peter  sat  down  to  ex- 
plain     It  was  a  scene  for  a  painter  :  there  sat  our  hero, 
fmbiing  with  the  thimbles  and  the  ball  but :  too  much 
frightened  to  have  performed  the  trick  if  he  had  kno*n 
hot  •  his  father  sat  next  him,  with  his  chin  upon  his  hands, 
looking  as  if  undecided  whether  to  reprimand  h.m  at  once 
"to  rive  him  a  "fair  showin'."     Mrs.  Wilkins  stood  jus 
behind  her  husband,  winking  and  smiling,  gesturing  and 
hemming,  in  order  to  attract  Peter's  attention,  and  indicate 
to  L  he  willingness  to  stand  between  him  and  his  father 
The  girls,  who  always  sided  with  their  mother,  followed 
her  example  in  this  case.      But  their  efforts  to  attract  his 
attention  were  useless  ;  they  could  not  even  catch  h.s  eye, 


36  THE   THIMBLE    GAME. 

so  busy  was  he  in  trying  to  arrange  the  ball  and  thimbles ; 
but  every  time  he  got  them  fixed,  and  told  his  father  to 
guess,  the  old  man  would  guess  right,  which,  while  it 
astonished  Peter,  incensed  the  old  man  against  him.  It 
looked  so  easy  to  him,  that  he  could  not  help  "  blaming 
Pete  fur  bein'  sich  a  fool." 

"  Shorely,"  said  the  farmer,  after  Peter  had  finished  his 
explanation.  "  Shorely  it  aint possible  that  you've  bin  to 
Augusty  so  often  and  didn't  know  no  better.  Didn't  I  tell  you 
not  to  have  nothin  to  do  with  them  Gimblit  Fellers  9  Ther 
ain't  one  of  'em  honest,  not  one.  Like  a  fool,  you've  gone 
and  lost  jest  four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  no  cents. 
It  aint  the  munny  that  I  keers  for,  Peter,  it's  you  bein'  sich 
a  fool — -four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  no  cents.  I'll 
go  rite  down  to  Augusty  next  Monday  and  find  this  here 
Barker,  and  ef  he  don't  give  up  the  munny,  I'll  have  a 
say  so  (ca.  sa.)  taken  agin  him,  and  march  him  rite  off  to 
jail — no  deaf-allication  about  that.  The  theavin'  rascal, 
gwine  about  cheetin'  people's  sons  outin  four  hundred  and 
fifty-one  dollars  no  cents!  How  often  is  you  bin  to 
Augusty,  Peter?" 

"  Sixteen  times,"  said  Peter. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  said  the  old  man,  "  bin  to  Augusty 
sixteen  times,  and  didn't  know  no  better  than  to  go  thar 
agin  and  lose  four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  no  cents." 

Early  on  Monday  morning  the  old  man  started  to 
Augusta  with  another  load  of  cotton.  Bob  driving  as 
before,  and  his  master  riding  his  gray  mare  "  Bets."  Mr. 
Wilkins  had  a  great  many  little  commissions  to  execute 
for  his  wife  and  the  "gals."  The  old  lady  wanted  a  pair 
of  spectacles,  and  the  gals  a  bonnet  each — ribbons  and 
flowers,  thread,  buttons,  &c,  had  to  be  purchased,  and 
the  good  farmer  was  nearly  crazed  by  the  loss  he  had  met 
with,  and  the  multiplicity  of  things  to  be  attended  to. 


THE   THIMBLE   GAME.  37 

Ever  and  anon,  as  he  trotted  along  the  road,  he  would 
mutter  to  himself  something  as  follows  : 

"  Leghorn  bonnet  for  Sal — 12  skeins  of  flax  thread — 2 
dozen  pearl  buttons  for  pants — one  gross  horn  buttons  for 
shirts — 5  grass  petticoats — 100  pounds  coffee — 451  dol- 
lars no  cents — Jonathan  Barker — bin  to  Augusty  sixteen 
times — 1  bolt  kaliker — Pete's  a  fool — lost  one  barrel  of 
molasses  and  451  dollars  no  cents."  With  such  words 
as  these  he  would  while  away  the  time,  apparently  un- 
conscious of  the  presence  of  Bob,  who  was  much  diverted 
by  his  master's  soliloquy.  As  they  approached  Augusta 
his  wrath  seemed  to  increase,  and  he  vented  his  spleen 
on  his  old  mare  and  Bob.  "  Bob,"  said  he,  "you  dad- 
dratted  rascal,  why  don't  you  drive  up — you  don't  do 
nothin'  but  set  thar  and  sleep.  Take  that,  and  that,  and 
that"  he  would  say  to  his  mare,  accompanying  each  word 
with  a  blow  ;    "git  up,  Miss,  and  go  long  to  Augusty." 

When  they  had  come  in  sight  of  Augusta,  Bob  struck 
a  camp,  and  his  master  rode  on  into  town.  Having  eaten 
his  supper,  and  put  up  his  horse,  he  retired  for  the  night, 
and  early  in  the  morning  started  out  to  look  for  Jonathan 
Barker.  He  caused  not  a  little  laughter  as  he  walked 
along  the  streets,  relating  his  troubles,  and  inquiring  of 
everybody  for  Jonathan  Barker. 

"  Where's  Jonathan  Barker,"  he  would  cry  out,  "  The 
Gimblit  Feller  what  cheeted  Pete  out'n  451  dollars  no 
cents.     Jes  show  me  Jonathan  Barker." 

As  a  last  hope,  he  went  around  to  the  warehouse, 
where  his  son  had  lost  the  cotton.  Walking  out  into  the 
yard,  he  bawled  out  the  name  of  Jonathan  Barker.  A 
little  man  with  a  long  gimlet  in  his  hand,  answered  to  the 
name,  and  our  farmer  attacked  him  as  follows : 

"  Look  a  here,  Mr.  Barker,  I  wants  that  money." 

"W7hat  money  ?"  said  Barker,  who  had  no  acquaint- 
4 


38  THE   THIMBLE    GAME. 

ance  whatever  with  the  farmer.  «  What  money  is 
it,  sir?" 

"  Oh  no,"  said  the  old  man,  perfectly  furious  at  such 
barefaced  assurance.  "Ohno  !  you  donH  know  nuthin  now. 
Blame  your  picter,  you're  as  innersent  as  a  lam.  Don't 
know  what  munny  I  meen  ?  It's  that  four  hundred  and 
fifty-one  dollars,  and  no  cents,  what  you  cheeted  Pete 
out'n." 

"  I  recollect  now,"  said  Barker,  « that  was  fairly  done, 
sir — if  you'll  just  step  this  way  I'll  show  you  how  I  got 
it,  sir." 

A  bright  idea  struck  the  old  man.  I've  seen  Pete  pla^ 
it,  thought  he  to  himself,  and  I  guessed  rite  every  time. 
«  Well,"  said  he,  "I'll  go  and  see  how  it  was  dun,  enny- 
how."  The  two  walked  along  to  the  same  bale  of  cot- 
ton which  had  witnessed  the  game  before,  and  the  gimlet 
man  took  the  identical  thimbles  and  ball  which  had  served 
him  before,  from  his  pocket,  and  sat  down,  requesting  the 
farmer  to  be  seated  also. 

«  Now,  sir,"  said  Barker,  «  when  your  son  was  here, 
I  bought  his  cotton  and  paid  him  for  it — just  as  he  was 
going  away,  I  proposed  showing  him  a  trick  worth  see- 
ing. I  took  this  little  ball  and  put  it  under  this  middle 
thimble ;  now,  said  I  to  him,  you  see  it,  and  now  you 
don't  see  it,  and  I'll  bet  you  you  can't  tell  where  the  little 
joker  is." 

"  Well,"  said  the  farmer,  "  all's  rite — the  ball's  now 
under  the  middle  thimble." 

U  When  I  had  put  it  under  there,"  continued  Barker, 
"  your  son  wanted  to  bet  me  that  it  was  under  the  middle 
thimble." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  the  old  man,  interrupting  him. 

«  No,"  returned  Barker,  "  it's  under  the  one  next  you." 

"  I  tell  you  it  ain't,"  said  Mr.  Wilkins,  who  strongly 
advocated  the  doctrine  that  <  seeing  is  believing.'      He 


THE   THIMBLE    GAME.  39 

was  sure  he  was  right,  and  now  a  chance  presented  itself 
of  regaining  his  former  load  of  cotton.  "  I  tell  you  it 
ain't.  I'm  harder  to  head  than  Pete  wus,  and  blamed 
ef  I  don't  bet  another  load  o'  cotton  that's  at  the  (lore  by 
this  time." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Barker,  smiling ;  "  but  if  you 
wish  it,  I'll  bet." 

"  Let's  understand  one  nuther  fust,"  said  the  farmer. 
"  You  say  that  ere  little  ball  you  had  jes  now,  ain't  under 
the  little  thimble  in  the  middle — I  say  it  is.  Ef  it  ain't, 
I'm  to  give  you  the  load  o'  cotton — ef  it  is,  you're  to  give 
me  four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  no  cents." 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Barker. 

"  Well,  I'll  bet,"  said  the  farmer,  "  and  here's  my 
hand." 

The  bet  was  sealed,  and  with  a  triumphant  air  which 
he  but  poorly  concealed,  the  farmer  snatched  up  the  mid- 
dle thimble,  but  no  ball  was  there. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  dod  drapt!"  he  exclaimed,  at  the  same 
time  drawing  a  long  breath,  and  dropping  the  thimble. 
"  Derned  ef  it's  thar !  Four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dol- 
lars no  cents  gone  agin!  Heven  and  airth,  what'll  Ma- 
haly  and  the  gals  say !  I'll  never  heer  the  eend  of  it  tel 
I'm  in  my  grave.  Then  thar's  Pete !  Gee-mi-my  !  jest 
to  think  o'  Pete — fur  him  to  know  his  ole  daddy  wus  made 
a  fool  of  too!  four  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  and  no 
cents!  but  I  wouldn't  keer  that  for  it,"  snapping  his 
fingers,  "  ef  it  wern't  fur  Pete." 

The  Gimblit-man  reminded  our  friend  of  the  result  of  . 
his  bet,  by  telling  him  that  the  sooner  he   unloaded  the 
better. 

"Now  you  ain't,  shore  nufF,  in  yearnest"  said  the  old 
man. 

"Dead  earnest,"  returned  Barker. 


40  THE   THIMBLE    GAME. 

"Well,  stranger,"  added  our  friend,  "  Pse  a  nonest 
man,  and  stands  squar  up  to  my  contracts.'5 

With  this  he  had  his  cargo  discharged  into  the  street, 
and  ordering  Bob  to  drive  on,  he  mounted  his  mare,  and 
set  out  for  home  with  a  heavier  heart  than  he  had  ever 
known  before.  'Twere  useless  to  attempt  a  description 
of  the  scene  which  transpired  on  the  farmer's  return 
home.  The  first  words  he  uttered  were,  "  Pete,  durned 
ef  I  hain't  lost  it  too."  The  misfortunes  of  his  trip  were 
soon  all  told,  after  which  Peter  and  his  father  wisely  re- 
solved never  to  bet  on  anything  again,  especially  "  them 
blamed  Yankee  Thimbles."  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  Mrs.  Wilkins,  Pete,  or  the  gals,  could  help  teasing 
the  old  man  occasionally  on  the  result  of  his  trip.  When- 
ever he  became  refractory,  his  wife  would  stick  her  thim- 
ble on  the  end  on  her  finger,  and  hold  it  up  for  him  to 
look  at — it  acted  like  a  charm!  His  misadventure,  too, 
raised  higher  than  ever  his  opinion  of  the  cunning  and 
sagacity  of  "  them  Augusty  Fellers  /" 

A  few  years  succeeding  the  events  which  we  have  at- 
tempted to  narrate,  and  Farmer  Wilkins  was  gathered  to 
his  fathers;  but  his  trip  to  Augusta  is  still  preserved  as  a 
warning  to  all  honest  and  simple-hearted  people.  The 
last  words  of  the  old  man  to  his  son,  were,  "  Peter,  Peter, 
my  son,  always  be  honest,  never  forgit  your  ole  daddy, 
and  alters  bewar  of  them  Gimblit  Fellers,  down  to  Au~ 
gusty." 

Reader !  every  tale  has  its  moral,  nor  is  ours  without 
one.  Not  only  did  Peter  learn  from  his  adventure  in 
Augusta,  the  evils  of  betting,  but  ever  since  the  time  to 
which  we  have  alluded,  he  always  allows  his  factor  to 
sell  his  cotton  for  him.  Whatever  you  may  think  of  it, 
both  Peter  and  his  father  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  "  no  use  in  tryin'  to  git  the  upper  hand  of  one 
o'  them  Gimblit  Fellers  down  to  August 'y." 


WAR'S  YURE  HOSS? 

BY    A    MISSOURIAN. 

ATho  the  writer  of  the  following  sketch  is  we  do  not  know,  but 
we  would  walk  "several  rods"  to  shake  hands  with  him.  It 
appeared,  we  believe,  originally,  in  that  prince  of  weeklies — 
the  New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times. 

Some  years  since,  when  the  State  of  Missouri  was  con- 
sidered "  Far  West,"  there  lived  on  the  bank  of  the  river 
of  the  same  name  of  the  State,  a  substantial  farmer,  who, 
by  years  of  toil,  had  accumulated  a  tolerable  pretty  pile 
of  castings  ;  owing,  as  he  said,  principally  to  the  fact  that 
he  didn't  raise  much  taters  and  unyuns,  but  rite  smart  of 
corn.  This  farmer,  hearing  that  good  land  was  much 
cheaper  farther  south,  concluded  to  move  there.  Accord- 
ingly, he  provided  his  eldest  son  with  a  good  horse,  and 
a  sufficiency  of  the  needful  to  defray  his  travelling  and 
contingent  expenses,  and  instructed  him  to  purchase  two 
hundred  acres  of  good  land,  at  the  lowest  possible  price, 
and  return  immediately  home.  The  next  day  Jeems 
started  for  Arkansas,  and  after  an  absence  of  some  six 
weeks,  returned  home. 

"  Well,  Jeems,"  said  the  old  man,  "  how'd  you  find 
land  in  Arkensaw?" 

"Tolerable  cheap,  dad." 

"You  didn't  buy  mor'n  two  hundred  acres,  did  yu, 
Jeems  ?" 

"  No,  dad,  not  over  tu  hundred,  J  reckon." 

"  How  much  money  hev  yu  got  left?" 

4*  (41) 


42  war's  yure  hoss. 

«  Nary  red,  dad  ;  cleaned  rite  out!" 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idee  travellin'  was  so  'spensive  in  them 
parts,  Jeems." 

"  Wal,  just  you  try  it  wonst,  an  you'll  find  out,  I 
reckon." 

"  Wal,  never  mind  that,  let's  hear  'bout  the  land,  and 
hut  war's  yure  hoss  V 

"  WThy,  yu  see,  dad,  I  was  a  goin'  along  one  day " 

"  But  war's  yure  hoss  V 

"  Yu  hole  on,  dad,  an  I'll  tell  yu  all  'bout  it.  Yu  see, 
I  was  agoin'  along  one  day,  an  I  met  a  feller  as  said  he 
was  goin'  my  way  tu " 

"  But  war's  yure  hossV 

"  Dod  darn  mi  hide,  ef  yu  don't  shut  up,  dad,  I'll 
never  git  tu  the  hoss.  Wal,  as  we  was  both  goin'  the 
same  way,  me  an  this  feller  jined  cumpenny,  and  'bout 
noon,  we  hitched  our  critters,  and  set  down  aside  uv  a 
branch,  and  went  tu  eatin'  a  snack.  Arter  we'd  got  thru, 
this  feller  sez  tu  me,  <  Try  a  drap  uv  this  ere  red-eye, 
stranger  ?'      «  Wal,  I  don't  mind,'  sez  I " 

"  But  war's  yure  hoss  9" 

"  Kummin  tu  him  bime-by,  dad.  So  me  an'  this  fel- 
ler sot  thar,  sorter  torkin'  and  drinkin',  and  then  he  sez, 
(  Stranger,  let's  play  a  leetle  game  uv  Seven-up,'  a  takin' 
out  uv  his  pocket  a  greasy,  roun'-cornered  deck  uv  herds. 
<  Don'r  keer  ef  I  du,'  sez  I.  So  we  sot  up  side  uv  a 
stump,  and  kummenced  tu  bet  a  quorter  up,  an'  I  was  a 
slayin'  him  orful " 

"  But  war's  yure  hoss  V 

"  Kummin'  tu  him,  dad.  Bime-by,  luck  changed,  an' 
he  got  tu  winnin',  an'  pretty  sune,  I  hadn't  not  nary 
nuther  doller.  Then  sez  he,  <  Stranger,  I'll  gin  yu  a  chance 
to  git  even,  an'  play  yu  one  more  game.'      Wal,  we 


war's  yure  iioss.  43 

both  plaid  rite  tite  that  game,  I  sware,  an'  we  was  both 
six  an'  six,  an' " 

"  War's  yure  hossV 

"  Kummin  til  him,  dad.  We  was  six  an'  six,  dad, 
an'  'twas  his  deal " 

«  Will  yu  tell  me  war's  yure  hossV  said  the  old  man, 
getting  riled. 

"  Yes,  we  was  six  an'  six,  an'  he  turned  up  the 
jack  !" 

"  War's  yure  hoss  V 

i(  The  stranger  wron  him,  a  turniii'  that  jack  /" 


A  LOSING  GAME  OF  POKER, 

Or,  the  GimMtr  o*t*ritttd. 

n    THE    y 

following  little   -  originally  published    Wl      •    ye3 

Y.jnkct  Blixic.  is  founded  on  fact.     0 
ararters  spoken  of  now  resides  "^*j  •n^  is  "  a  man  < 

Scu     ■    .  -  v  "    tinfei 

.iinen  of  humanity,  bearing  the  name  c 
Bennet*.  made  it  bisl  si 

his  way  of  their  money,  by  inducir 
D  to  play  poker.  -  such  other  inter 

gUM  BUB]        Bed  ^  \ 

die  sittii  superior  co v.    i 

the  different  counties  more  regularly  than  Benne*' 

.  their  objec 
-  -   of  the  former  beir 
-     ue  and  of  the  latter  I 

veil ; 
otht    -  I  its  officers  muuge  1      •  erloc 

entirely  tho>    |l  j  ptehibi  ertai 

alio-  i  tenor  of  their  w 

truth  of  the  rem  •   \V../   > 

s     lit,  that  rinks  at  rot  it  can't  sec  ts  o 

... 

But  -  [twu  k  in  the  little  vi 

14) 


\   i.  ;.\mi:  of  toker.  45 

q£  (  1    — -.      J tist  such  a  crowd  was  collected  as  only  court 

work  and  "General  Muster"  caw  gather,-  -men,  women, 
boi  Bj  ami  girls,  black  ami  white,  old,  middle-aged, young, 
and  very  young;  everybody  talking  to  everybody  ami 

nobody  listening.  The  grog-shops  were  crowded,  and 
"cake  and  beer11  wagons  were  doing  a  brisk  business. 
The  loud  laughter  and  frequent  oaths  that  ever  ami  anon 
saluted  the  ear,  were  evidence  sufficient  that  the  "Sons 
of  Temperance'1  had  not  "  penetrated"  that  far  "  into  the 
interior." 

Bennett  was,  of  course,  "  in  town,"  and  could  have 
been  seen  (if  anybody  had  looked  that  way)  about  twelve 
o'  clock  on  the  day  we  write  of,  walking  arm-in-arm  up 
the  street  of  the  village  witli  an  acquaintance,  whom  for 
convenience  we  shall  call  Cole.  This  Cole,  though  a 
limb  of  the  law,  was,  to  use  a  Ceorgiaism,  a  "  peert 

..ibler,11  and  it  was  evident  that  he  and  Bennett  were 
up  to  something.  Let's  listen,  and  we  may  discover  what 
it  wa& 

"  You  see,  old  fellow,"  said  the  gambler  to  his  friend, 
"  I've  got  something  on  hand,  and  want  your  help." 

"  Well,  Bennett,  you  know  I'm  always  ready  for  any- 
thing that  either  promises  fun  or  profit.  So  let  us  into  the 
s»i  ret,  and  then  we'll  talk  more  to  the  point." 

"  Well,  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  just  this. 
Thai's  a  feller  here  named  Andy  Smith,  with  a  pocket 
full  of  rocks.  lie  has  just  sold  a  tract  of  land,  and  pock- 
eted the  climes.  Now,  what  I  want  is  to  prevent  his  car- 
rying it  away  with  him,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  How  do  you  propose  to  manage  matters,  Bennett  ?" 

"  Why  you  see  he's  very  fond  of  liquor,  and  I  can  ma- 
nage to  have  him  as  drunk  as  a  cooter  by  dark.  Then  I 
want  you  to  come  over  to  Jimmy  Greene's  grocery. 
Smith  will  be  thar,  and  I  want  you  to  propose  a  game  of 
poker.     Smith  understands  poker,  but  is  shy  of  me,  be- 


46  A    LOSING   GAME   OF   POKER. 

cause  he  thinks  I  play  a  great  game.  I  shall  let  you  win 
of  course,  and  make  him  believe  that  I  can't  play.  After 
a  few  games,  you  can  pretend  to  have  some  particular 
business  and  leave.  I'll  git  Smith  to  playing,  and  if  I 
don't  ivool  him,  then  my  name  ain't  Bennett." 

"  Very  well,  Bennett,  I'll  be  on  hand,  of  course,  but 
don't  be  too  hard  on  him." 

"  Never  fear  that,  old  hoss,  I'll  give  him  a  fair  chance." 
The  lying  old  dog ! 

Night  came.  Bennett  and  Smith  were  both  at  the 
grocery,  the  latter  about  two-thirds  snapped,  the  former 
in  close  conversation  with  the  proprietor  of  the  groggery. 
In  a  short  time  Cole  entered,  and  after  a  few  minutes' 
conversation  and  a  drink  of  liquor,  proposed  to  Bennett  a 
game  of  poker.  A  table  was  drawn  out,  and  the  two 
were  soon  betting  at  this  favourite  southern  game.  For 
a  while  neither  lost  or  won.  Smith  eyed  the  players 
closely,  for  he  was  not  so  drunk  as  he  appeared  to  be, 
and  as  the  betting  became  more  'spirited,  his  interest  in 
the  game  increased.  At  length,  Bennett  dealt  the  cards 
(Smith  becoming  more  deeply  interested),  and  said, 

"  Well,  Cole,  what  do  you  do?" 

"I'll  go  you  a  hundred  on  my  hand,"  was  the  prompt 
reply. 

"  Very  well,  I  see  that,  and  go  you  five  hundred  bet- 
ter," said  the  apparently  much  excited  gambler. 

"  Good !  I  see  you  five,  and  five  hundred  better,"  coolly 
replied  the  lawyer. 

"  I  cover  that,  and  call  you,"  said  Bennett,  throwing 
down  his  hand  and  exhibiting  a  pair  of  kings,  a  pair  of 
jacks,  and  an  ace. 

"  A  pretty  fair  hand,  Bennett,  but  three  queens  and  a 
pair  of  jacks  beat  it,"  and  Cole  raked  the  sixteen  hundred 
dollars  into  his  hat  and  rose  from  the  table.      "  To-mor- 


A    LOSING    GAME    OF    POKER.  47 

row  night,"  said  he,  "  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  win  this 
back.  I  have  an  important  law  case  that  comes  on  to- 
morrow, and  I  must  go  and  get  ready  for  it.  This  gen- 
tleman," pointing  to  Smith,  U  will  probably  try  you  a 
hand." 

Smith,  who  imagined  himself  a  better  player  than  Ben- 
nett, having  swallowed  the  bait  laid  for  him,  readily  con- 
sented. This  was  just  what  the  gambler  wanted.  The 
cards  were  dealt,  and  for  a  time  Smith  won.  At  length 
it  came  to  Bennett's  deal,  wThen  he  dexterously  slipped 
the  pack  into  his  lap,  and  dealt  from  one  he  had  prepared 
for  the  purpose,  and  from  which  he  dealt  himself  four 
kings,  and  his  opponent  four  queens.  Both  bet  high, 
Smith  bet  one  hundred  on  his  hand — Bennett  covered  it, 
and  went  three  hundred  better.  This  was  covered,  and 
two  hundred  more  put  up,  taking  everything  Smith  had, 
for  he  had  loaned  out  the  best  portion  of  his  money  that 
day  to  a  friend.  To  the  surprise  and  mortification  of  the 
gambler,  therefore,  when  the  two  hundred  were  covered, 
his  victim  backed  out.  He  was  completely  bluffed, 
and  nothing  could  induce  him  to  bet  more.  Consider- 
ably disappointed,  Bennett  pocketed  the  five  hundred, 
and  left,  while  Smith  called  for  more  liquor,  and  before 
two  hours,  had  forgotten  his  losses  in  drunkenness. 

Next  morning  Bennett  and  Cole  met  on  the  piazza  of 
the  hotel. 

"  Well,  Bennett,  what  luck  last  night  ?" 

"  Bad  enough.  That  denied  fool  flew  the  track  after  I 
had  got  a  good  hand,  and  I  only  got  about  five  hundred 
out  of  him." 

"  xVh,  that  was  bad  !  Probably  he  became  frightened 
at  something." 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  he  had  the  money,  for  I'm  sure 
if  he'd  had  the  funds,  he  would  have  bet  on  four  queens, 


48  A  LOSING   GAME    OF    POKER. 

and  that's  the  hand  I  gave  him.  ■  Better  luck  next  time,* 
however,  is  my  motto.  But,  Cole,  you  and  I  had  as  well 
have  a  settlement  now." 

"  A  settlement !  what  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  not  aware 
that  there  is  anything  to  settle  between  you  and  me." 

«  Come,  come,  old  hoss,  none  of  your  jokes.  About 
that  money  you  won  last  night ;  you  know  well  enough 
what  I  mean." 

"  Well,  didn't  I  win  it  fairly  ?" 

<<  Why,  yes,  the  playing  was  fair  enough  on  your  part, 
but  you  know  the  cards  were  stocked,  so  as  to  give  you 
the  hand  you  held,"  said  the  gambler,  who  began  to  feel 
slightly  alarmed  at  Cole's  manner. 

"  And  who  stocked  them,  pray  ?  If  you  chose  to  deal 
me  a  be'tter  hand  than  you  kept  yourself,  without  my  ask- 
ing you  to  do  so,  it  certainly  wasn't  my  fault." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Bennett,  really  alarmed  at  the  pros- 
pect of  losing  his  money;  "Still,  it  was  understood  that 
we  were  only  playing  for  fun,  and  I  hope  you  will  refund 
that  seventeen  hundred,  and  take  half  my  winnings  from 
Smith." 

« I  understood  the  thing,  Bennett,  in  no  such  way,  and 
shall  keep  what  I  won  from  you,  and  you  are  perfectly 
welcome  to  the  whole  of  what  you  took  from  Mr.  Smith. 
Good  morning,  sir." 

The  joke  was  too  good  to  keep,  and  finally  got  out  in 
the  town  ;  and  Bennett  got  out  of  it,  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  has  never  troubled  its  good  people  since. 


MIKE  HOOTER'S  BAR  STORY. 

A  Yazoo  Sketch. 
SHOWING   HOW    THE   BEAR   OUTWITTED   IKE   nAMBERLIN. 
BY    A    MISSOURIAN. 

We  should  hate  to  swear  that  "Tom  Owen,  the  Bee-hunter,"  alias 
T.  B.  Thorpe,  had  not  a  hand  in  inditing  the  following  capital 
sketch.  It  is  one  of  a  series  which  have  appeared,  we  believe, 
in  the  New  Orleans  Delta,  though  we  find  it  going  through  the 
country  without  the  slightest  mark  of  paternity.  Such  things 
certainly  deserve  being  taken  care  of. 

"  It's  no  use  talkin',"  said  Mike,  "  'bout  your  Polar 
Bar,  and  your  Grisly  Bar,  and  all  that  sort  er  varmont 
what  you  read  about.  They  ain't  no  whar,  for  the  big 
black  customer  that  circumlocutes  down  in  our  neck  o' 
woods  beats  'em  all  hollow.  I've  heard  of  some  monsus 
explites  kicked  up  by  the  brown  bars,  sich  as  totein  off 
a  yoke  o'  oxen,  and  eatin'  humans  raw,  and  all  that  kind 
o'  thing ;  and  Capten  Parry  tells  us  a  yarn  'bout  a  big 
white  bar,  what  'muses  hisself  climin'  up  the  North  Pole 
and  slides  down  to  keep  his  hide  warm  ;  but  all  that 
ain't  a  circumstance  to  what  I've  saw. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Mike,  "there's  no  countin'  on 
them  varmonts  as  I's  been  usened  to,  for  they  comes  as 
near  bein'  human  critters  as  anything  I  ever  see  what 
doesn't  talk.  Why,  if  you  was  to  hear  anybody  else  tell 
'bout  the  bar-fights  I've  had,  you  wouldn't  b'leeve  'em, 
and  if  I  wasn't  a  preacher,  and  could  not  lie  none,  I'd 
keep  my  fly- trap  shot  'tell  the  day  of  judgment. 
5  (49) 


50  MIKE   HOOTER'S   BAR   STORY. 

« I've  heard  folks  say  as  how  bars  cannot  think  like 
other  human  critters,  and  that  they  does  all  the  sly  tricks 
what  they  does,  from  instink.  Golly !  what  a  lie  !  You 
tell  me  one  of 'em  don't  know  when  you've  got  a  gun, 
and  when  you  ain't  ?  Just  wait  a  minit,  an'  my  privit 
'pinion  is,  when  you've  hearn  me  thro'  you'll  talk  t'other 
side  of  your  mouth. 

"  You  see,  one  day,  long  time  ago,  'fore  britches  come 
in  fashion,  I  made  a  'pointment  with  Ike  Hamberlin  the 
steam  doctor,  to  go  out  next  Sunday  to  seek  whom  we 
couldn't  kill,  a  bar,  for  you  know  bacon  was  skace,  and 
so  was  money,  and  them  fellers  down  in  Mechanicsburg 
wouldn't  sell  on  'tick,  so  we  had  to  'pend  on  the  varmints 
for  a  livin'. 

"  Speakin'  of  Mechanicsburg,  the  people  down  in  that 
ar  mud-hole  ain't  to  be  beat  nowhere  this  side  o'  Christ- 
mas. I've  hearn  o'  mean  folks  in  my  time,  an'  I've 
preached  'bout  'em  a  few;  but  ever  sense  that  feller, 
Bonnel,  sold  me  a  pint  of  red-eye  whiskey — an'  half  ov 
it  backer  juice — for  a  coon-skin,  an'  then  guv  me  a  brass 
picayune  fur  change,  I've  stopped  talkin'.  Why,  that 
chap  was  closer  than  the  bark  on  a  hickory  tree  ;  an'  ef  I 
hadn't  hearn  Parson  Dilly  say  so,  I'd  ov  swore  it  wasn't 
er  fac,  he  was  cotch  one  day  stealin'  acorns  from  a  blind 
hog.  Did  you  ever  hear  how  that  hoss-fly  died  ?  Well, 
never  mind.  It  was  too  bad  to  talk  'bout,  but  heap  too 
good  for  him. 

"  But  that  ain't  what  I  was  spoutin'  'bout.  As  I  was 
sayin'  afore,  we  had  to  'pend  on  the  varmints  fur  a  livin'. 
Well,  Ike  Hamberlin,  you  see,  was  always  sorter  jubous 
o'  me,  kase  I  kilt  more  bar  nor  he  did ;  an',  as  I  was 
sayin',  I  made  a  'pointment  with  Ike  to  go  out  huntin'. 
Then,  Ike,  he  thought  he'd  be  kinder  smart,  and  beat 
<  Old  Preach'  (as  them  Cole  boys  usen  to  call  me),  so,  as 


MIKE    HOOTER'S    BAR    STORY.  51 

soon  as  day  crack  he  hollered  up  his  puppies,  an'  put !  I 
spied  what  he  was  'bout,  fur  I  hearn  him  latlin'  to  one  o' 
his  niggers  'bout  it  the  night  afore — so,  I  told  my  gal  Sal 
to  fill  my  private  tickler  full  o'  the  old  l  raw,'  and  then 
fixed  up  an'  tramped  on  arter  him,  but  didn't  take  none 
o'  my  dogs.  Ike  hadn't  got  fur  into  the  cane,  'fore  the 
dogs  they  'gan  to  whine  an'  turn  up  the  har  on  ther  backs ; 
an',  bime-by,  they  all  tucked  tail,  an'  sorter  sidled  back 
to  whar  he  was  stanin'.  <  Sick  him!'  says  Ike,  but  the 
cussed  critters  wouldn't  hunt  a  lick.  I  soon  diskivered 
what  was  the  matter,  for  I  kalkilated  them  curs  o'  hisn 
wasn't  worth  shucks  in  a  bar  fight — so,  I  know'd  thar  was 
bar  'bout,  if  I  didn't  see  no  sine. 

"  Well,  Ike  he  coaxed  the  dogs,  an'  the  more  he  coaxed 
the  more  they  wouldn't  go,  an'  when  he  found  coaxin' 
wouldn't  do,  then  he  scolded  and  called  'em  some  of  the 
hardest  names  ever  you  hearn,  but  the  tarnation  critters 
wouldn't  budge  a  peg.  When  he  found  they  wouldn't 
hunt  no  how  he  could  fix  it,  he  begin  a  cussin'.  He 
didn't  know  I  was  thar.  If  he  had  er  suspicioned  it,  he'd 
no  more  swore  than  he'd  dar'd  to  kiss  my  Sal  on  er 
washin'  day  ;  for  you  see  both  on  us  belonged  to  the  same 
church,  and  Ike  was  class-leader.  I  thought  I  should  er 
flummuxed  !  The  dogs  they  sidled  back,  an'  Ike  he  cus- 
sed ;  an'  I  lay  down  an'  rolled  an'  laughed  sorter  easy  to 
myself,  'til  I  was  so  full  I  thort  I  should  er  bust  my  biler! 
I  never  see  ennything  so  funny  in  all  my  life  !  There  was 
I  layin'  down  behind  er  log,  fit  to  split,  an'  there  was  the 
dogs  with  their  tails  the  wrong  eend  down,  an'  there  was 
Ike  a  rarin'  an'  er  pitchin' — er  rippin'  an'  er  tarrin' — an' 
er  cussin'  wus  nor  a  steamboat  cap'n  !  I  tell  you  it 
fairly  made  my  har'  stan'  on  eend  !  I  never  see  er  custo- 
mer so  riled  afore   in  all  my  born  days !  yes  I  did  too, 


52  mike  hooter's  bar  story. 

once — only  once.  It  was  that  feller  Arch  Coony,  what 
used  to  oversee  for  old  Ben  Roach.  Didn't  you  know 
that  ar' hossfly  ?  He's  a  few!  well  he  is.  Jewhilliken, 
how  he  could  whip  er  nigger!  and  swar  !  whew  [  Didn't 
you  ever  hear  him  swar  ?  I  tell  you,  all  the  sailors  an' 
French  parrots  in  Orleans  ain't  a  patchin'  to  him.  I  hearn 
him  let  hisself  out  one  day,  an'  I  pledge  my  word  he 
cussed  'nuffto  send  twenty  preachers  like  old  Joe  Slater 
an'  Parson  Holcom  an'  them  kind  er  Jewdases  right  ker- 
plumpus  into  h — ,  an'  what  was  wus,  it  was  all  'bout 
nothin',  for  he  warn't  mad  a  wrinkle.  But  all  that  ain't 
neither  here  nor  thar.  But,  as  I  was  sayin'  afore,  the 
dogs  they  smelt  bar  sine,  an'  wouldn't  budge  a  peg,  an' 
arter  Ike  had  almost  cussed  the  bark  off'n  a  dog-wood 
saplin'  by,  he  lent  his  old  flint  lock  rifle  up  agin  it,  and 
then  he  pealed  off  his  old  blanket  an'  laid  her  down,  too. 
I  diskivered  mischief  was  er  cumin,  fur  I  never  see  a 
critter  show  rathy  like  he  did.  Torectly  I  see  him  walk 
down  to  the  creek  bottom,  'bout  fifty  yards  from  where  his 
gun  was,  and  then  he  'gin  pickin'  up  rocks  an'  slingin' 
um  at  the  dogs  like  bringer  !  Cracky  !  didn't  he  linkit 
into  um  ?  It  minded  me  o'  David  whalin  Goliah,  it  did  ! 
If  you'd  er  seed  him,  and  hearn  them  holler,  you'd  er 
thought  he'd  er  knocked  the  nigh  sites  off'n  every  mo- 
ther's son  of  'em ! 

"  But  that  ain't  the  fun  yet.  While  Ike  was  er  lammin 
the  dogs,  I  hearn  the  alfiredest  crackin'  in  the  cane,  an' 
I  looked  up,  and  thar  was  one  of  the  eternalest  whollopin' 
bars  cummin'  crack,  crack,  through  the  cane  an'  kerslesh 
over  the  creek,  and  stopped  right  plumb  slap  up  whar 
Ike's  gun  was.  Torectly  he  tuck  hold  er  the  ole  shooter^ 
an'  I  thought  I  see  him  tinkerin'  'bout  the  lock,  an'  kindei 
whislin',  and  blowin'  into  it.     I  was  'stonished,  I  tell 


MIKE    HOOTER'S    BAR    STORY.  53 

you,  but  I  wanted  to  see  Ike  outdone  so  bad  that  I  lay 
low  and  kep'  dark,  an'  in  about  a  minit  Ike  got  done 
lickin'  the  dogs,  an'  went  to  git  his  gun.  Jeemeny,  cri- 
miny!  if  you'd  only  bin  whar  I  was!  I  do  think  Ike 
was  the  maddest  man  that  ever  stuk  an  axe  into  a  tree, 
for  his  har  stuck  rite  strait  up,  and  his  eyes  glared  like 
two  dogwood  blossoms  !  But  the  bar  didn't  seem  to  care 
shucks  for  him,  for  he  jist  sot  the  old  rifle  rite  back  agin 
the  saplin',  and  walked  off  on  his  hind  legs  jist  like  any 
human.  Then,  you  see,  I  gin  to  get  sorter  jelus,  and  sez 
I  to  myself,  «  Mister  Bar,'  sez  I,  <  the  place  whar  you's 
er  stanin'  ain't  prezactly  healthy,  an'  if  you  don't  wabble 
off  from  thar  purty  soon,  Mizis  Bar  will  be  a  widder,  by 
gum!'  With  that,  Ike  grabbed  up  ole  Mizis  Rifle,  and 
tuk  most  pertickler  aim  at  him,  and  by  hokey,  she  snap- 
ped !  Now,  sez  I,  <  Mister  Bar,  go  it,  or  he'll  make  bacon 
of  you  !'  But  the  varmint  didn't  wink,  but  stood  still  'as 
a  post,  with  the  thumb  of  his  right  paw  on  the  eend  of 
his  smeller,  and  wiglin'  his  t'other  finger  thus  (and  Mike 
went  through  with  the  gyration).  All  this  time  Ike  he 
stood  thar  like  a  fool,  er  snappin'  and  her  snappin',an' 
the  bar  he  lookin'  kinder  quare  like,  out  er  the  corner  o' 
his  eye,  an'  sorter  laffin  at  him.  Torectly  I  see  Ike  take 
down  the  ole  shooter,  and  kinder  kersamine  the  lock,  an' 
when  he  done  that,  he  laid  her  on  his  shoulder,  and  shook 
his  fist  at  the  bar,  and  walked  toward  home,  an'  the  bar 
he  shuk  his  fist,  an'  went  into  the  cane  brake,  and  then  I 
cum  off." 

Here  all  the  Yazoo  boys  expressed  great  anxiety  to 
know  the  reason  why  Ike's  gun  didn't  fire.  "  Let's  licker 
fust,"  said  Mike,  "  an'  if  you  don't  caterpillar,  you  can 
shoot  me.  Why,  you  see,"  concluded  he,  "  the  long 
and  short  of  it  is  this,  that  the  bar  in  our  neck  o'  woods 
has  a  little  human  in  urn,  an'  this  feller  know'd  as  much 
5* 


54  mike  hooter's  bar  story. 

about  a  gun  as  I  do  'bout  preachin' ;  so  when  Ike  was 
lickin'  the  dogs,  he  jest  blowed  all  the  powder  outen  the 
pan,  an'  to  make  all  safe,  he  tuk  the  flint  out  too,  and 
that's  the  way  he  warn't  skeered  when  Ike  was  snappin  at 
him." 


ELECTRICITY  AS  A  TEMPERANCE  AGENT. 

(With  an  Illustration.) 
BY   WM.    C.    RICHARDS. 

No  one  is  better  known  at  the  south,  than  the  writer  of  the  above 
little  sketch.  In  1841,  in  connexion  with  his  brother,  Mr.  T. 
Addison  Richards,  a  talented  young  artist,  he  commenced  the 
publication  of  "Georgia  Illustrated,"  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
works  ever  issued  from  the  American  or  European  press.  It 
was  discontinued  after  one  year,  for  want  of  patronage,  and  the 
M  Orion"  took  its  place.  This  was  published  for  two  or  three 
years,  but  was  finally  discontinued  from  the  same  cause.  In 
May,  1848,  Mr.  R.  commenced,  in  Athens,  Georgia,  the  regular 
weekly  publication  of  the  "  Southern  Literary  Gazette,"  which 
was  subsequently  removed  to  Charleston,  S.  C,  where  it  is 
now  published. 

Mr.  R.  is  a  man  of  unquestionable  talent,  and  great  energy  of 
character.  He  takes  high  rank,  both  as  a  poet  and  prose  writer, 
and,  as  a  critic,  is  excelled  by  few  editors,  North  or  South.  He 
has  indulged  very  little  in  the  humorous.  The  following  sketch 
originally  appeared  in  the  Editor's  Table  of  the  Orion. 

In  a  neighbouring  village  we  were  once  amusing  our- 
self  and  a  few  friends  with  a  variety  of  experiments  in 
electricity,  and  the  door  of  the  room  standing  open,  a 
notorious  drunkard  staggered  in  and  stood  eyeing  our 
movements  with  a  vague  yet  fixed  gaze.  The  electric 
battery  seemed  especially  to  engage  his  attention,  and  as 
the  vivid  spark  flashed  out  at  its  discharge,  he  started 
back,  but  instantly,  rubbing  his  hands,  approached  nearer, 

(55) 


56  ELECTRICITY   AS   A   TEMPERANCE   AGENT. 

as  if  to  examine  the  strange  object,  at  the  same  time 
addressing  us  by  name — he  was  well  known  to  all — he 
demanded  in  a  hiccupping  strain — 

"  W-what  the  d-d-deuce  do  you  c-call  this  here  f-f-fez- 
zity  p-p-pop-b-bang  thing?" 

« It  is  an  electrical  battery,  Boozy,"  said  we. 

"A  tea-ki-kittle  what ?"  returned  he,  with  a  drunken 
leer.  But  it  was  in  vain  that  we  prompted  him  ;  he  could 
not  master  the  long  word,  and  finally,  out  of  patience,  he 
stamped  his  foot  and  exclaimed — 

"  W-well  the  k-kritically  thing  b-b-be  d-d-d — d  !  W- 
what  do  ye  d-do  with  it  ?" 

"  We  make  drunken  men  sober,  Boozy,"  said  a  friend, 
desirous  of  having  some  fun,  for  which  indeed  we  were 
all  ripe. 

Boozy  looked  at  us  a  few  moments,  and  then  rolling 
up  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  extending  his  brawny  arm,  he 
replied : 

"  D-d-damn  it,  then — s-s-sober  me  J" 

We  accordingly  lost  no  time  in  charging  the  battery  ; 
and  Boozy  without  the  least  hesitation  grasped  the  hook 
with  one  hand,  and  at  our  bidding  fearlessly  approached 
his  other  to  the  glittering  knob.  The  shock  was  heavy — 
but  he  stood  firm — his  eyes  dilated,  his  mouth  closely 
compressed,  and  his  head  slightly  drooping.  He  was  for 
two  or  three  minutes  speechless.  At  length,  recovering 
his  voice,  he  said  : 

"  G-g-good — by  g-golly.  That's  t-t-tame  1-lightnin', 
ain't  it?" 

«  Try  it  again,  Boozy,"  said  Squire  Wilson. 

"  T-try  it  yourself,  S-squire  W-wilson.  It  g-goes 
through  you  1-1-like — 1-1-like — " 

"  Like  what,  Boozy?"  interrupted  Doctor  Bolus. 


KT 


ELECTRICITY   AS   A   TEMPERANCE    AGENT.  57 

"  L-l-like  a  d-d-dose  of  y-your  ph-ph-ph-is-sick,  d-doc- 
tor!" 

At  length  Boozy  tried  it  again,  and  this  time  the  negative 
wire  was  placed  in  contact  with  his  feet,  while  he  touched 
the  knob  as  before.  The  same  effects  were  produced — 
and  ten  times  did  he  receive,  through  various  parts  of  his 
body,  the  full  shock  of  the  battery  of  four  quart  jars. 
Gradually  lie  became  sober,  and  spoke  more  readily,  till  at 
last,  when  he  had  recovered  his  speech  from  the  last 
shock,  he  stepped  back,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  his 
breast,  exclaimed  in  true  oratorical  style  : — 

"  Gentl'men — I  thank  }'ou.  I'm  rejuvenated !  Whereas 
I  had  an  impediment  in  my  speech — now  I  havn't  none. 
Gentl'men  I  feel  like  a  new-made  man,"  and  touching 
his  tattered  cap,  he  made  a  low  bow,  and  walked  steadily 
out  of  the  room — a  sobered  man  ! 

But,  alas!  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  as  wTe 
were  engaged  with  the  magnetic  electric  machine,  Boozy 
re-entered  in  a  state  of  "interrogation  "  as  the  "  Georgia 
Lawyer"  has  it.  He  readily,  at  our  request,  grasped  the 
metallic  cups  connected  with  the  two  poles  of  the  instru- 
ment, which  was  instantly  put  in  operation.  He  began  to 
tremble,  and  soon  his  whole  frame  was  in  violent  motion  ; 
he  gradually  bent  forward,  his  eyes  and  mouth  dilated, 
the  wires  were  doubled  in  his  contracting  arms,  and  he 
was  actually  being  drawn  off  his  feet,  wTith  his  body 
stretching  half  across  the  old  counter  on  which  the  instru- 
ment stood. 

At  length,  in  pity  for  his  looks  of  terror  and  hopeless 
despair,  we  stopped  the  machine.  His  fingers  immedi- 
ately relaxed  their  terrible  hold,  and  dashing  the  cups 
violently  on  the  table,  he  raised  himself,  and  with  gleam- 
ing eyes,  clenched  teeth,  and  uplifted  arm — shouted 
aloud — 


58  ELECTRICITY   AS   A   TEMPERANCE   AGENT. 

a  D n  you— I'll  give  a  hundred  dollars  for  a  feet  of 

thatd— d  wire!" 

Boozy  could  not  be  prevailed  with  to  touch  "that 
wire"  again.  We  are  sorry  to  add — he  is  yet  a 
drunkard ' 


M'CRACKEN'S  EXPERIENCE. 

BY    A    HOOSIER. 

Who  "  a  hoosier'  is  we  do  not  know.  The  sketch  is  going  the 
rounds  without  an  owner,  and,  as  we  think  it  ought  to  be  "  taken 
up  and  bound  over,"  we  present  it  to  the  readers  of  the  present 
volume,  assuring  them  that  it  is  well  worthy  of  an  owner. 

"  Tell  us  about  that  fight,  Jo." 

"  Why,  you  see,  boys,  it  was  one  of  the  tightest  places 
I  ever  was  in — [Jack,  give  us  a  light,  will  you  ?]  never 
seed  prezacly  as  many  men  around  one  poor  fellow  afore  ; 
an'  I  wouldn't  a  cared  much  then,  ef  it  had  been  in  a 
place  whar  I  knowed  the  ropes  ;  but  I  had  never  had  ^een 
Louisville  ;  but  somehow,  I  thought  ef  I  was  to  get  into  a 
fight,  I'd  show  some  of  them  chaps  that  M'Cracken  could 
put  in  some  right  tall  licks.  So,  I  takes  off  my  home- 
spun, rolls  up  my  sleeves,  when  all  at  once  suthing  struck 
me—" 

"  Who  was  it  ?" 

"  Why,  I  noticed  a  tall  feller  on  the  outside  of  the 
crowd  pick  up  a  rock,  but  it  wasn't  him,  for  he  threw  it 
down  again ;  another  feller,  a  Major  something,  had  an 
eternal  big  hickory  stick  in  his  fist,  and — ." 

"  Was  it  the  Major  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  it  was,  as  he'd  walked  away  be 
fore  the  skurmage  commenced,  and  I  didn't  see  him  any 
more  ;    besides,  he  didn't  look  like  a  man  what  would 
maltreat  a  stranger,  but,  as  I  was  sayin',  suthin  struck 


me — " 


(59) 


60  m'cracken's  experience. 

<<  Whereabouts  did  it  hit  you,  Jo  ?" 

"  On  the  head.  As  I  was  saying,  I  had  just  got  my- 
self peeled,  and  had  sort  of  singled  out  a  pop-eyed  look- 
ing fellow  jest  afore  me,  and  was  thinking  to  myself 
you're  my  man,  sure,  when  suthin  struck  me — " 

"  Did  it  knock  you  down  ?" 

"  Hold  on,  fellers,  don't  be  in  such  a  squmption — no,  it 
didn't  knock  me  down,  but — " 

"  Sort  of  staggered  you  ?" 

"  No — can't  say  it  did,  much  ;  but,  as  I  was  a  sayin', 
the  pop-eyed  feller  looked  as  ef  he  thought  he  was  about 
to  ketch  the  orfullest  cowhallopin  he'd  ever  seed  in  his 
born  days ;  and  I'd  jest  doubled  up  these  pertater  grab- 
blers,  calculatin'  to  plant  one  of  'em  on  the  tip  of  his  nose, 
and  knock  both  his  eyes  back  inter  their  natural  position, 
when,  as  I  said  before,  suthin  struck  me — " 

«  Was  it  the  pop-eyed  feller?" 

"£so,  sir-ee !  I  know'd  from  his  build  I  was  a  quicker- 
motioned  man  an'  he  was ;  and  had  just  o'  sot  my  upper 
lip  stiff,  and  drawed  in  a  long  breth,  when  suthin  struck 
me — " 

"Well,  what  was  it?" 

"  WThy,  an  idear  that  I'd  better  be  a  making  tracks 
from  them  diggin's,  fast ;  and,  boys,  ef  you'd  only  ben 
about  th a r  that  mornin',  you'd  a  seed  old  M'Cracken  a 
makin  the  fastest  time  for  two  miles  and  a  leetle  better, 
as  ever  was  made  in  Jefferson !  Whoop  !  and  if  you've 
got  any  more  of  that  baldface,  pour  it  out!" 


BINGO. 

A  Georgia  Sketch. 

BY    HON.    R.    M.    CHARLTON. 

The  writer  of  the  following  sketch  is  a  practising  lawyer  and  an 
ex-judge  of  the  Superior  Cour-t,  residing  in  Savannah,  Ga.  He 
has  indulged  but  little  in  prose  writing;  as  a  poet,  however,  he 
takes  high  rank,  though  he  contributes  but  little  to  the  literature 
of  the  day,  his  time  being  almost  entirely  engrossed  by  the  ex- 
tensive practice  of  his  profession.  In  1842  he  published  a 
volume,  containing  most  of  his  own  and  his  brother's  poems, 
*  many  of  which  are  very  fine. 

A  few  years  ago  I  attended  the  Superior  Court  for  the 
county  of — ! — .  The  court  adjourned  late  in  the  night, 
and  the  judge  and  bar  being  very  weary,  retired  to  their 
beds  immediately  thereafter.  We  were  all  in  the  same 
room,  and  immediately  adjoining  to  us  was  the  bar-room, 
and  the  chinks  or  vacant  spaces  in  the  partition  enabled 
us  to  see  and  hear  all  that  was  going  on.  Shortly  after 
we  had  retired,  about  forty  men,  "  pretty  well  corned,  and 
up  to  everything,"  entered  the  liquor  room.  No  sooner 
had  they  arrived  there  than  they  commenced  boasting. 
"  I'm  the  step-father  of  the  earth!"  said  one.  "I'm  the 
yallow  blossom  of  the  forest!"  exclaimed  another,  and 
requested  his  fellow-citizens  then  and  there  being  "  to 
nip  the  bud,  if  they  dare."  "I'm  kin  to  a  rattlesnake 
on  the  mother's  side  !"  shouted  the  earth's  ancestor.  This 
seemed  to  be  a  «  socdoliger  ;"  (which  translated  into  Latin, 
means  a  ne  plus  ultra ;)  for  the  "  yallow  blossom"  stopped 
6  (61) 


62  BINGO. 

to  consider  what  answer  he  could  possibly  make  to  this 
high  claim  of  ancestry.     A  happy  thought  struck  him. 

<«  Will  you  drink  or  fight  ?"  roared  he,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder. 

A  silence  ensued,  or  at  least  a  subdued  murmur, 
"  'twixt  which  and  silence  there  was  nothing."  Perhaps 
a  more  embarrassing  question  could  not  have  been  pro- 
pounded. The  rattlesnake's  son  was  exceedingly  thirsty — 
the  sands  of  Africa  were  not  more  so  ;  and  liquor  was 
the  idol  of  his  heart.  He  loved  it  dearly,  but  he  loved 
fighting  also  ;  and  here  was  a  glorious  chance  to  "  lick" 
an  adversary  he  had  longed  to  get  at.  Curia  vult  advi- 
sare.  He  was  deliberating  between  these  equally  plea- 
sant alternatives,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  pos- 
sible to  accomplish  both. 

"Both!"  responded  he,  "both.  I'll  drink  first— I'll 
fight  afterwards." 

A  loud  shout  of  approbation  rose  from  the  crowd.  The 
liquor  was  called  for — a  pint  of  buck-eye  whiskey — 
and  impartially  divided  into  two  tumblers.  The  adver- 
saries each  took  one,  and  grasping  each  other  with  their 
left  hands,  and  touching  the  glasses  together  in  token  of 
amity,  drained  their  respective  glasses  to  the  last  drop, 
and  then  smashed  them  over  the  heads  of  each  other,  and 
at  it  they  went.  A  clamour  ensued,  so  terrific  that  the 
English  language  has  no  word  that  would  be  sufficiently 
expressive  of  it.  All  sorts  of  encouragement  were  offered 
by  the  friends  of  each  combatant,  and  an  amateur,  who 
had  no  particular  predilection  for  either,  jumped  upon  the 
counter,  and  commenced  singing  a  poetic  description  of 
all  the  naval  battles  of  America  from  the  time  of  Colum- 
bus to  the  present  day,  (which  somebody  has  had  the  bar- 
barity to  put  into  miserable  verse,)  keeping  time  with  his 
heels  on  the  counter.     Just  as  he  got  to  the  one  hundred 


BIXGO.  63 

and  ninety-ninth  verse,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  what  he 
called  "the  Wasp  and  Hornet  engagement,"  his  melody 
was  stopped  by  a  shrill  cry  from  the  "  yallow  blossom  of 
the  forest,"  who  began  to  fall  into  the  sere  and  yellow 
leaf,  and  gave  manifest  symptoms  of  being  whipped. 

"  He  bites  !"  screamed  he. 

"I  get  my  livelihood  by  biting,"  said  the  other,  re- 
laxing his  hold  for  a  moment,  and  then  taking  a  fresh 
start. 

«  'Nuff!  'miff!  take  him  off!" 

Up  rose  the  rattlesnake  amidst  loud  cheering.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  crow  like  a  cock  ;  then  he  changed 
his  genus  very  suddenly,  and  declared  that  he  was  a  "sea- 
horse of  the  mountain,"  and  that  he  had  sprung  from  the 
Potomac  of  the  earth  ;  then  he  was  a  bear  with  a  sore 
head  ;  a  lion  with  a  mangy  tail ;  a  flying  whale  ;  in  short, 
he  announced  himself  to  be  every  possible  and  every 
impossible  bird,  beast,  and  fish,  that  the  land  or  the  sea 
has  ever  produced. 

His  wit  having  exhausted  itself,  some  fresh  excitement 
or  novelty  was  requisite.  "  Let's  have  Bingo  /"  sug- 
gested a  by-stander.  "  Huzza  for  Bingo,"  echoed  the 
crowd.  Well,  thought  I,  I  don't  know  who  and  what 
Bingo  is,  but  I  do  know,  that  when  things  reach  their 
worst  condition,  any  change  must  be  for  the  better  ;  and 
as  any  change  from  this  terrible  riot  must  be  for  the  better, 
I  say  too,  "  Huzza  for  Bingo!"  Alas! — as  the  sequel 
proved,  I  deceived  myself  greatly. 

A  gallon  of  whiskey  with  spice  in  it,  and  a  gallon  of 
Malaga  wine,  were  placed  on  a  large  round  table,  around 
which  about  forty  men  seated  themselves,  having  first 
elected  a  president  viva  voce.  The  president  elect  com- 
menced the  game  by  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 


64  BINGO. 

"A  farmer's  clog  sat  on  the  barn-door, 
And  Bingo  was  his  name.  0  !J5 

And  they  all  shouted  in  chorus — 

"  And  Bingo  was  his  name,  0  !" 

"  B,"  said  the  president,  "i"  said  the  next,  "n"  the 
third,  "  g"  the  fourth,  "  o"  the  fifth  ;  and  then  the  chorus, 
taking  up  the  letter  "  o,"  again  shouted — 

"  And  Bingo  was  his  name,  0  V7 

If  either  missed  a  letter,  or  said  "  n"  for  example, 
when  he  should  have  said  « i,"  his  penalty  was  to  take  a 
drink,  and  the  company  as  a  privilege  drank  with  him ; 
and  with  such  slight  interruptions  as  the  time  for  drinking 
would  occupy,  this  continued  for  about  six  hours. 

At  last  the  patience  of  the  Judge  (who  was  quite  a 
young  man,  and  who  is  not  more  than  a  squirrel's  jump 
from  me  while  I  write)  became  exhausted,  and  he  called 
for  the  landlord.  Our  host,  who  was  a  tailor  by  trade, 
and  who  was  also  one  of  the  Bingo  fraternity,  made  his 
appearance  with  a  candle  in  his  hand,  and  a  very  affec- 
tionate and  drunken  leer  upon  his  countenance. 

"  Go,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  "  into  the  next  room,  and 
tell  those  drunken  lunatics  that  if  they  don't  stop  their 
beastly  noise,  I'll  commit  every  one  of  them  to  jail  in  the 
morning,  for  contempt  of  court." 

"  Oh,  Judge  !"  answered  our  host,  holding  up  his  un- 
occupied hand  in  token  of  his  amazement ;  "  Oh,  Judge, 
you'll  give  me  the  double-breasted  horrors!  Why,  Judge, 
work  is  scarce,  and  people's  pertikler ;  and  if  I  was  to  preli- 
minary your  orders  to  that  crowd  of  gentleman,  why,  Judge, 
I'd  pick  up  a  thrashing  in  a  little  less  than  no  time ;" 
and  off' he  staggered.    Bingo  was  forthwith  resumed,  mitK 


BINGO.  65 

gradually  the  chorus  became  more  confused  and  indistinct. 
Chaos  had  come  again.  The  actions  of  the  virtuous  gen- 
tlemen there  assembled,  ceased  to  be  above  board,  and 
were  carried  on  under  the  table.  Some  were  snoring 
others  hiccuping,  others  cascading.  Bingo  had  ceased  to 
be,  except  when  some  sleeper,  feeling  some  painful  sen- 
sation from  his  attitude,  etc.,  would  exclaim  "  Oh !"  which 
would  wake  up  his  immediate  neighbour,  who,  the  ruling 
passion  strong  in  death,  would  exclaim — "  And  Bingo 

was ,"  and  then  relapse  into  such  silence  as  a  drunken 

man  generally  falls  into. 


Years  have  passed  away  since  that  awful  night.  Joys 
have  blessed  me  ;  afflictions  pained  me  ;  but  all  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  life  have  failed  to  drive  out  of  my  memory 
that  terrible  game  and  tune  of  Bingo.  It  haunts  me  like 
a  dun  in  the  day,  like  a  ghost  in  the  night.  If  I  hear  any 
one  say  "  Oh!"  the  sequel  immediately  occurs  to  me — 
"  And  Bingo  was  his  name,  0!"  I  am  not  much  of  an 
anatomist,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  when  a  post-mortem 
examination  is  had  upon  me,  the  whole  matter  of  Bingo 
will  be  found  incorporated  with  my  pia-mater,  or  dura- 
matter,  or  some  other  portion  of  my  brain.  I  can't  tell 
the  process  or  the  manner  by  which,  and  in  which  it  has 
become  a  part  and  parcel  thereof;  but  this  much  I  know, 
that  if  my  operator  is  a  skilful  surgeon,  he  will  find  there 
developed,  in  characters  that  he  can  read,  the  distinct  state- 
ment that  there  was  a  farmer,  who  had  a  dog,  whose  pecu- 
liar habit  and  custom  it  was  to  sit  upon  the  barn  door, 
and  that  he  answered  to  the  classical  and  melodious  name 
of  "Bingo." 

In  a  very  heavy  equity  cause  which  was  tried  some  years 
6* 


66 


BIXGO. 


ago  in  our  circuit,  one  of  the  jurors  who  had  been  inundated 
with  cases  from  "  Vesey  Junior,"  expressed  a  wish  «  that 
Vesey  Junior  had  died  before  he  (Vesey  Jr.)  had  been 
born."  I  have  something  of  the  same  feeling  toward 
«  Bingo."     Have  not  you  also,  reader? 


HOW  SALLY  HOOTER  GOT  SNAKE-BIT. 

A    YAZOO    SKETCH. 

As  our  readers  will  discover,  Hie  following  mirth-provoking  reei 
tal  is  from  the  lips  of  our  old  friend,  Mike  Hooter,  whose  bear- 
hunting  exploits  are  spoken  of  in  a  previous  story.  Mike  is  a 
team  and  no  mistake,  and  we  only  wish  we  knew  to  whom  to 
return  our  thanks  for  the  hearty  laughs  we  have  enjoyed  while 
reading  this  account  of  Sally's  adventure  with  the  snake. 

Our  old  acquaintance,  Mike  Hooter,  made  another  visit 
to  town  last  week,  and  being,  as  he  supposed,  beyond 
the  hearing  of  his  brethren  in  the  church,  (for  be  it  re- 
membered, that  Mike  is  of  pious  inclining,  and  a  ruling 
elder  in  the  denomination  of  Methodists,)  concluded  that 
he  would  go  on  a  '  bust.'  Having  sold  his  crop  of  cotton 
and  fobbed  the  'tin,1  forth  sallied  Mike  with  a  < pocket 
full  of  rocks,'  and  bent  on  a  bit  of  a  spree.  After  patron- 
izing all  the  groceries,  and  getting  rather  mellow,  he 
grew  garrulous  in  the  extreme,  and  forthwith  began  to 
expatiate  on  his  wonderful  exploits.  After  running 
through  with  a  number  of  '  Pant'er  and  <  Bar  fights,'  and 
several  «  wolf  disputes,'  he  finally  subsided  into  the  reci- 
tal of  events  more  nearly  appertaining  to  members  of  his 
family.  "That  Yazoo,"  said  Mike,  "  is  the  durndest 
hole  that  ever  came  along.  If  it  a'n't  the  next  place  to 
no  whar,  you  can  take  my  head  for  er  drinkin  gourd — you 
can,  an'  as  for  that  ar  devil's  camp  ground,  what  they 
calls  Satartia,  if  this  world  was  er  kitchen,  it  would  be 
the  slop  hole,  an'  er  mighty  stinkin  one  at  that !  I  pledge 
you  my  word,  it  comes  closer  bein'  the  jumpin  off'  place 

(67) 


68  HOW   SALLY   HOOTER    GOT   SNAKE-BIT. 

than  any  I  ever  hearn  tell  on.  Talk  about  Texas.  It 
an't  nothin'  to  them  Yazoo  hills.  The  etarnalest  out-of- 
the  way  place  for  bar,  an'  panters,  an'  wolfs,  an'  possums, 
an'  coons,  an'  skeeters,  an'  nats,  an'  hoss  flies,  an'  chee- 
gers,  an'  lizzards,  an'  frogs,  an'  mean  fellers,  an'  drinkin' 
whiskey,  an'  stealin'  one-anothers'hogs,  an'  gittin'  corned, 
an1  swappin'  hosses,  an'  playin'  h-11  generally,  that  ever 
you  did  see  !  Pledge  you  my  word,  'nufT  to  sink  it.  An' 
as  for  snakes!  whew!  don't  talk!  I've  hearn  tell  of  the 
Boa  Constructor,  an'  the  Annagander,  an'  all  that  kind  er 
ruptile  what  swollers  er  he-goat  whole,  an'  don't  care  er 
switch  uv  his  tail  for  his  horns  ;  an'  I  see  the  preacher  tell 
'bout  Aaron's  walkin'  stick  what  turned  itself  into  er  sar- 
pent,  an'  swoller'd  up  ever-so  many  other  sticks,  an'  rods, 
an'  bean  poles,  an'  chunks  o'  wood,  an'  was  hungry  yet 
— an'  all  that  kinder  hellerbelloo,  but  that's  all  moon- 
shine. Jist  wait  er  minit  till  you've  hearn  'bout  the 
snakes  what  flourishes  up  'bout  my  stompin'  ground,  an' 
how  one  uv  um  come  precious  nigh  chawin'  up  my  dar- 
ter Sal,  an'  if  you  don't  forgit  evrything  you  ever  know'd, 
then  Mike  Hooter's  the  durndest  liar  that  ever  straddled 
a  fence  rail.  Jeeminy,  criminy!  Jest  to  see  him,  one 
uv  them  ar  great  big,  rusty  rattlesnakes,  an'  hear  him 
shake  that  ar  tale  uv  hizzen !  I  tell  you  what,  if  you 
didn't  think  all  the  peas  in  my  corn  field  was  er  spillin  in 
the  floor,  thar  aint  no  'simmons !  Talk  about  the  clouds 
burstin  an'  the  hail  rattling  down  in  er  tin  pan !  Why 
'taint  er  patchin  to  it !  Cracky  !  its  worse  nor  er  young 
earthquake — beats  h-11 ! 

Now,  I  don't  valley  er  snake  no  more  nor  er  she  bar  in 
suckin  time — 'specially  er  rattlesnake,  cause  you  see  it's 
er  vurmin  what  always  rattles  his  tail  'fore  he  strikes,  an' 
gives  you  time  to  scoot  out'n  the  way,  but  the  wimmin 
folks   an'   my   gal    Sally    is    always,   in   generally,  the 


HOW    SALLY   HOOTER   GOT    SNAKE-BIT.  69 

skeerdest  in  the  world  uv  'em.  I  never  seed  but  one  wo- 
man what  wouldn't  cut  up  when  er  snake  was  'bout,  an' 
that  was  ole  Misses  Lemay,  an'  she  didn't  care  er  dog 
on  bit  for  all  the  sarpints  that  ever  cum  er  'long.  That 
old  gal  was  er  hoss!  Pledge  you  my  word  I  b'leeve  she 
was  pizen ! — couldn't  be  no  other  way.  Didn't  never 
hear  how  that  ole  petticoat  bit  the  snake  ?  Well,  I'll  tell 
you. 

She  went  out  one  day  an'  was  er  squattin'  down, 
pickin'  up  chips,  an'  the  first  thing  she  know'd  she  got 
onto  the  whappinest,  biggest,  rustiest  yaller  moccasin  that 
ever  you  shuck  er  stick  at,  an'  bein'  as  how  she  was 
kinder  deaf,  she  didn't  hear  him  when  he  'gin  to  puff  an' 
blow,  and  hiss  like.  The  fust  thing  she  knowed  he  bit 
her,  slap — the  all-firedest,  biggest  kinder  lick !  You  orter 
seen  that  old  gal,  how  she  fell  down,  an'  rolled,  an'  wal- 
ler'd,  an'  tumbled  'bout  and  holler'd  nuff,  an'  screamed, 
an'  prayed,  an'  tried  to  sing  er  sam,  and  played  h-11 
generally  !  You'd  er  thought  the  very  yearth  was  er  cum- 
min to  an  eend !  Then  she  begin  hollerin'  for  help.  Sez 
she,  Misses  Hooter,  cum  here  an'  kill  this  here  snake ! 
Well,  my  wife  run  out  and  fotch  the  old  'oman  in  the 
house  an'  gin  he-r  some  whiskey,  an'  she  tuk  it  like  milk. 
Torectly  she  sorter  cum  to  herself,  and  sez  my  wife  to 
her — sez  she  to  Misses  Lemay,  sez  she — "  Misses  Lemay, 
what  hurts  you  ?" 

«  Snake-bit !"  sez  she. 

«  Whar  'bouts?"  sez  I. 

"  Never  mind,"  sez  she — il  snake  bit !" 

"  But  Misses  Lemay!"  sez  I,  «  tell  me  whar  he  bit  you, 
so  as  we  may  put  somethin'  to  it." 

Sez  she,  lookin'  kinder  glum,  and  turnin'  red  in  the 
face — sez  she  to  me,  "It  don't  want  nuthin'  to  it :  I'm 
snake-bit,  an'  taint  none  er  your  bizziness  whar  ?" 


70  HOW    SALLY   HOOTER   GOT    SXAKE-UIT. 

With  that  I  smelt  a  mice,  and  commenced  larfin.  You 
orter  hearn  me  holler !  If  I  didn't  think  I'd  er  bust  my 
biler,  I  wish  I  may  never  see  Christmas  !  I  ain't  larfed 
so  much  since  the  time  John  Potter  got  on  the  bar's  back 
without  no  knife,  an'  rode  him  'round,  like  er  hoss,  and 
was  skeer'd  to  get  off!  I  give  you  my  word  I  farly 
rolled ! 

Soon  as  the  ole  'oman  'gin  to  open  her  eyes,  an'  I  see 
thar  warnt  nuthin'  much  the  matter  with  her,  my 
wife  she  grabbed  up  the  tongs  an'  went  out  to  kill  the 
snake,  an'  I  follered.  When  I  see  the  reptile,  sez  I  to 
my  wife,  jest  wait  er  minit,  sez  I.  'Taint  no  use  killin' 
him — he's  past  prayin'  for !  I  pledge  you  my  word  he 
was  as  dead  as  Billy-be-d — d !  "  What  made  him  die  ?" 
sez  my  wife  to  me.  Don't  know,  sez  I — 'spose  he 
couldn't  stand  it.  Torectly  Mat  Read  he  cum  up,  an' 
when  he  hearn  what  had  been  goin'  on,  he  wa3  so  full  er 
larf  his  face  turned  wrong  side  out'ards,  and  sez  he — 
"  Poisoned,  by  golly!" 

That  ole  'oman  aint  been  skeer'd  uv  er  snake  sense,  an' 
goes  out  huntin'  'em  reglar.  I  told  her  one  day,  sez  I, 
Misses  Lemay,  sez  I,  I'll  give  you  the  best  bunch  of  hog's 
bristles  I've  got  to  brush  your  teeth  with,  if  you'll  tell  me 
how  not  to  git  skeer'd  uv  er  snake !  She  didn't  say 
nare  a  word,  but  she  turned  'round  an'  took  me  kerbim 
right  'tween  the  eyes  !  I  tell  you  what,  it  made  me  see 
stars.     I  aint  sed  snake  to  her  since. 

Howsever,  that  ain't  tellin'  you  how  the  sarpint  kinder 
chawed  up  my  darter  Sal.  I'll  tell  vou  how  'twas.  You 
see  there  was  gwine  to  be  a  mity  big  camp  meetin'  down 
at  Hickory  Grove,  an'  we  all  fixed  up  to  go  down  an'  stay 
er  week,  an'  my  wife,  she  looked  up  everything  'bout  the 
house,  an'  all  sorts  of  good  things — bacon,  an'  possum 
fat,  an1  ash   cake,  an'  a  great  big    sausenger,   'bout  as 


HOW    SALLY    nOOTER    (JOT    SNAKE-W  71 

big  as  your  arm,  an'  long  enuflf  to  eat  er  week — 'cause, 
she  said  Parson  Dilly  loved  sausengers  the  best  in  the 
world.  Well,  when  we  got  there,  I  went  to  the  basket 
what  had  the  vittals  in  it,  to  git  somethin'  to  eat,  but  the 
sausenger  wasn't  thar,  an'  sez  I  to  my  darter,  sez  I,  «  Sally, 
gal,  what's  'come  er  that  ar  sausenger  ?"  Then  she  turned 
red  in  the  face,  an' sez  she,  "  Never  mind — it's  all  right." 
I  smelt  that  thar  war  somethin'  gwine  on  wrong — for  you 
see  the  wimmin  folks  'bout  where  I  lives,  is  h— 11  fur  new 
fashions,  an'  one  day  one  uv  them  ar  all-fired  yankee 
pedlars  come  er  long  with  er  outlandish  kind  uv  er  jiga- 
maree  to  make  the  wimmin's  coat  sorter  stick  out  in  the 
t'other  eend,  an'  the  she's,  they  all  put  on  one,  case  they 
'sposed  the  he's  would  love  to  see  it.  Well,  my  Sal,  she 
got  monsous  stuck  up  'bout  it,  an'  axed  me  to  giv  her  one  ; 
but  I  told  her  she  had  no  more  use  for  one,  nor  er  sittin' 
hen  had  for  a  midwife,  an'  I  wouldn't  do  no  such  er  thing, 
case  how  she  was  big  enough  thar  at  first. 

Well,  as  I  was  er  savin',  camp  meetin'  day  it  came, 
an'  we  was  all  thar,  an'  the  she-folks  they  was  fixed  up 
in  er  inch  uv  their  lives,  an^  thar  she  was  er  fijjittin,  an' 
er  twistin'  an'  er  wriglin  about  with  er  new  calico  coat 
on,  all  stuck  up  at  the  hind  eend,  an'  as  proud  as  er  hee 
lizzard  with  two  tails !  Tell  vou  what — she  made  more 
fuss  nor  er  settin'  hen  with  one  chicken !  I  was  'sto- 
nished  what  to  make  uv  that  whoppin  big  lump  on 
behind.  Howsever,  it  was  'simmon  time,  an'  she'd  bin 
eatin  er  powerful  sight  uv  urn,  an'  I  'sposed  she  was  git- 
tin  fat — so  I  shut  up  my  fly  trap,  an'  lay  low  an'  kep 
dark !  Torectly  the  preachin'  it  begin,  an'  Parson  James, 
he  was  up  on  er  log  er  preachin',  an'  er  goin'  it  "  hark 
from  the  tomb  !"  I  tell  you  what  Brother  James  was  loud 
that  day !  Thar  he  was,  with  the  Bible  on  er  board — 
stickin  'twene  two  saplins,  an'  he  was  er  cummin'  down 


72  HOW   SALLY   HOOTER    GOT    SNAKE-BIT. 

on  t  with  his  two  tists  worse  nor  maulin  rails ;.  an?  er 
storupin  his  feet,  an'  er  slobberin'  at  the  mouth,  an'  er 
outtin  up  shines  worse  nor  er  bob-tail  bull  in  fly  time  !  I 
tell  you  what,  ef  he  didn't  go  it  boots  that  time,  I  don't 
know !  Torectly  I  spy  the  heatherns  they  commence 
takin'  on,  and  the  sperit  it  begin  to  move  um  for  true — 
for  brother  Sturtevant's  ole  nigger  Cain,  an'  all  uv  um, 
they  'gin  to  kinder  groan  an'  whine,  an'  feel  erbout  like 
er  corn  stalk  in  er  storm,  an  brother  Gridle,  he  begin  er 
rubbin  his  hands  an  slappin'  um  together,  an'  scramblin' 
about  on  his  knees,  an'  er  cuttin'  up  like  mad  !  In  about 
er  minit,  I  hearn  the  all-firedst  to  do,  down  'mongst  the 
wimmin,  that  ever  cum  along,  and  when  I  kinder  cast  my 
eye  over  that  way,  I  spy  my  Sal  er  rarein'  and  er  pitchin', 
er  rippen'  an'  er  tarein'  and  er  shoutin'  like  flinders ! 
When  brother  James  see  that,  he  thought  she'd  done  2X>t 

J  CD  O 

good,  an'  he  cum  down  off  the  log,  an'  sez  he,  "  Pray  on 
sister!" — an'  the  she's  they  all  got  round  her,  an'  cotch 
hold  uv  her,  and  tried  to  make  her  hold  still.  But  'twarnt 
no  use.  The  more  they  told  her  "  to  don't"  the  more  she 
hollered.  Torecly  I  diskiver  she'd  done  got  'ligious,  an' 
I  was  so  glad,  it  kinder  lift  me  off'n  the  ground — an'  sez 
I,  "  go  it  Sal! — them's  the  licks ! — blessed  am  them  what 
seeks,  for  them's  um  what  shall  find  !"  Then  the  wimmin 
they  all  cotch  holt  of  her  by  the  har,  an'  commence  wol- 
lerin'  her  "bout  in  the  straw,  an' sez  I, "  that's  right,  sisters 
— beat  the  Devil  out'n  her."  And  they  did  too  !  I  tell 
you  what — the  way  they  did  hustle  her  about  mongst  the 
straw  and  shucks  was  forked  !  In  about  er  minit  I  'gin 
to  get  tired  and  disgustified,  an'  tried  to  make  her  shet  up, 
but  she  wouldn't,  but  kep  a  hollerin  worser  and  worser, 
an'  she  kinder  keeled  up  like  a  possum  when  he  makes 
'ten  he's  dead !     Torecly  she  sorter  cum  to  herself  so  she 


HOW    SALLY    HOOTER    GOT    SNAKE-BIT.  73 

could  talk,  an'  sez  I,  "  Sal,  what  ails  you,  gal?"  The 
fust  word  she  sed,  sez  she,  "  Snake  !" 

"  Whar  'bouts?"  sez  I. 

"Snake,"  says  she  agin — "  sarpent !  take  it  off,  or 
he'll  chaw  me  up  be  g — d  !" 

"  Well !"   sez  my  wife  ;  "  that's  cussin  !" 

"  Whar's  enny  snake?"  sez  I. 

"Snake!"  sez  she;  "snake!  snake!!"  an'  then  she 
put  her  han'  on  the  outside  of  her  coat,  an'  cotch  hold  uv 
somethin,  and  squeezed  it  tight  as  er  vice ! 

When  I  seed  that,  I  knowed  it  was  er  snake  sure  nuff, 
what  had  crawled  up  under  her  coat ;  an'  I  see  she'd  put 
her  hand  on  the  outside  uv  her  clothes,  an'  cotch  it  by 
the  head.  Soon  as  I  see'd  that,  I  knowed  he  couldn't  bite 
her,  for  she  belt  onto  him  like  grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger; 
and  I  'eluded  'twarn't  no  use  bein'  in  too  big  er  hurry  ;  so 
I  told  John  Potter  not  to  be  skeer'd,  an'  go  an'  grab  the 
sarpent  by  the  tail,  and  sling  him  h— llwards !  Well, 
Potter  he  went  and  sorter  felt  uv  him  on  the  outside  uv 
her  coat,  an'  I  pledge  you  my  word,  he  was  the  whap- 
pinest  biggist  reptile  that  ever  scooted  across  er  road  ! — I 
tell  you  if  he  warn't  as  big  as  my  arm,  Mike  Hooter  is  as 
big  er  liar  as  ole  Dave  Lemay — and  you  know  he's  a  few 
in  that  line  !  Well,  when  Potter  diskiver  that  she  helt 
the  snake  fast,  he  begin  feelin'  up  for  the  reptile's  tail, 
sorter  like  he  didn't  like  to  do  it  at  fust,  an'  then  sorter 
like  he  did.  When  it  come  to  that,  Sal  she  kinder  turned 
red  in  the  face  and  squirmed  er  bit,  but  'twarn'  no  time 
for  puttin'  on  quality  airs  then,  and  she  stood  it  like  er 
hoss !  Well,  Potter  he  kep  er  feelin'  up,  an'  feelin'  an'  er 
feelin'  up,  sorter  easy  like,  an'  torectly  he  felt  somethin' 
in  his  han'.  "  I've  got  him,"  sez  Potter,  "  well  I  have,  by 
jingo !"  "  Hole  on  to  him,  Sal,"  sez  I,  "  and  don't  you 
do  nothin,  Mr.  Potter,  till  I  give  the  word,  and  when  I  say 
7 


74  HOW   SALLY   HOOTER    GOT   SNAKE-BIT. 

<go!'  then,  Sal,  you  let  go  uv  the  varmint's  head;  and 
Potter — you  give  the  all-firedest  kind  on  er  jerk,  and  sling 
him  to  h— 11  and  gone  !" 

I  tell  you  what,  them  was  squally  times !  and  I  vise 
you,  the  next  time  you  go  up  to  Yazoo,  jest  ax  enny  body, 
and  if  they  don't  say  the  snakes  up  in  them  parts  beats 
creation,  then  Mike  Hooter'll  knock  under. 

At  this  point  of  the  narration  we  ventured  to  ask  Mike 
what  became  of  the  snake  ? 

"  As  I  was  er  sayin',"  continued  he,  "  thar  was  my  Sal 
er  holein  the  sarpent  by  the  head,  and  John  Potter  he  had 
him  by  the  tail,  and  Sal  she  was  er  hollerin'  and  er 
screamin',  an'  the  wimmin,  they  was  all  stannin'  round, 
skeered  into  er  fit,  and  the  durndest  row  you  ever  hearn — 
"hole  on  to  him,  Sal,"  sez  I;  "and  you,  John  Potter, 
don't  you  move  er  peg  till  I  give  the  word  ;  and  when  I 
say  'jerk!'  then  you  sling  him  into  the  middle  of  next 
week."  I  tell  you  what,  we  had  the  orfullest  time  that 
ever  I  see !     Let's  liquor  ! 

"  That's  the  best  red  eye  I've  swallered  in  er  coon's 
age,"  said  the  speaker,  after  bolting  a  caulker.  "But, 
how  did  you  manage  at  last  ?"  asked  a  listener. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  he,  "  thar  was  my  Sal,  an'  thar 
was  all  the  folks,  and  thar  was  the  snake,  an'  John  Potter 
holein'  him  by  the  tail,  skeer'd  out'n  his  senses,  and  h— 11 
to  pay !  I  was  gettin'  sorter  weak  in  the  knees,  I  tell 
you,  an'  brother  James'  eyes  looked  like  they'd  pop  out'n 
his  head,  an'  sez  I  to  John  Potter,  sez  I  to  him,  sez  I, 
"  John  Potter,  don't  you  budge  tell  I  say  go !  and  when  I 
gives  the  word,  then  you  give  him  er  jerk,  and  send  him 
kerslap  up  agin  that  tree,  and  perhaps  you'll  gin  him  er 
headache.  Now  John  Potter,"  sez  I,  "is  you  ready?" 
sez  I.  "  I  is,"  sez  he,  "  Now  look  at  me,"  sez  I,  »  and 
when  I  drap  this  handkercher,"  sez  I,  "then  you  jerk 


HOW   SALLY   HOOTER   OOT   SNAKE-BIT.  75 

like  flujuns,"  sez  I.  "  Yes,"  sez  he.  Then  I  turned 
round  to  Miss  Lester,  ant)  sez  I,  "  Miss  Lester,  bein'  as 
how  I  haint  got  no  handkercher,  'spose  you  let  me  have 
that  koon-skin  cape  uvyourn."  Sez  she,  "  Uncle  Mike, 
you  can  have  enny  thing  I  is  got."  «  'J31iged  to  you," 
sez  I,  "and  now  John  Potter,1',  sez  I,  "  when  I  drops  this 
koon-skin  cape,  then  you  pull !  "  Yes,"  sez  he.  "  Now,1' 
sez  I,  -'keep  your  eye  skinned,  and  look  me  right  plum 
in  the  face,  and  when  you  see  me  drap  this,  then  you  wal- 
lum  the  sarpent  out.  Is  you  ready?"  sez  I.  "Yes," 
sez  he  !  "Good,"  sez  I,  "jerk!"  an'  when  I  said  jerk, 
he  gin  the  whopptaest  pull,  and  sent  him  kerwhop  !  about 
er  mile  an  er  feet !  I  pledge  you  my  word,  I  thought  he'd 
er  pulled  the  tail  of  the  varmint  clean  ofF!" 

Here  Mike  took  a  quid  of  tobacco,  and  proceeded — 
"  I've  bin  in  er  heap  er  scrapes,  and  seen  some  of  the  all- 
iiredest  cantakerous  snakes  that  ever  cum  erlong,  but  that 
lime  beats  all!" 

"  What  kind  of  a  snake  was  it,"  asked  a  listener.  "  I'll 
tell  you,"  said  he — "  'twarnt  nuthin  more'n  I  'spected. 
Sal  thought  she'd  look  big  like,  an'  when  she  was  shoutin' 
and  dancin'  er  bout,  that  sausenger  what  she'd  put  on  for 
er  bustle,  got  loose  round  her  ankle,  and  she  thought  'twas 
er  snake  crawlin'  up  her  clothes!" 

Mike  left  in  a  hurry. 


THE  "EXPERIENCE1'  OF  THE  BLACKSMITH 
OF  THE  MOUNTAIN  PASS. 

A  Georgia  Story. 

BY    THE    HON.    JOHN    B.  LAMAR. 
CHAPTER    I. 

At  the  entrance  to  one  of  those  gorges,  or  gaps,  in  the 
great  Apalachian  chain  of  mountains,  in  their  passage 
across  the  northern  portion  of  Georgia,  a  blacksmith  had 
erected  his  forge  in  the  early  settlement  of  that  region  by 
the  Anglo-American  race,  and  drove  a  thrifty  trade  in  the 
way  of  facing  axes,  and  pointing  ploughs,  for  the  settlers; 
and  shoeing  horses  for  wayfaring  people,  in  their  transit 
through  the  country  to  examine  gold-mines  and  land. 

As  he  was  no  ordinary  personage  in  the  affairs  of  his 
neighbourhood,  and  will  make  a  conspicuous  figure  in 
this  narrative,  some  account  of  his  peculiarities  will  not 
be  uninteresting.  Having  acted  through  life  on  a  homely 
maxim  of  his  own, — "  pay  up  as  you  go  up," — he  had 
acquired  some  money,  and  was  out  of  debt ;  and  conse- 
quently enjoyed  "the  glorious  privilege  of  being  inde- 
pendent," in  a  degree  that  is  unknown  to  many  who 
occupy  a  larger  portion  of  the  world's  attention  than  him- 
self. He  was  a  burly,  well  looking  man  of  thirty- five, 
just  young  enough  to  feel  that  all  his  faculties,  mental  and 
physical,  had  reached  their  greatest  development ;  and 
just  old  enough  to  have  amassed  sufficient  experience  of 

(76) 


TIIE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS.         77 

men  and  things,  to  make  the  past  serve  as  a  finger-post 
to  his  future  journey  through  life.  With  a  shrewd,  but 
open,  bold,  and  honest  look,  there  was  a  gleeful  expres- 
sion in  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  that  spoke  of  fun.  The 
"  laughing  devil  in  his  eye"  was  not  a  malicious  spirit, 
however.  His  physical  conformation  was  that  which 
combined  great  strength  with  agility  ;  and  if  he  had  been 
fated  to  have  been  a  contemporary  of  his  great  prototype, 
Vulcan,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  the  Lemnian  black- 
smith would  have  allotted  to  him  a  front  forge  in  his 
establishment,  to  act  as  a  sort  of  pattern-card,  and  to 
divert  the  public  gaze  from  his  own  game  leg  to  the  fair 
proportions  of  his  foreman. 

Now,  although  Ned  Forgeron,  for  such  was  the  name 
he  had  inherited  from  some  Gallic  ancestor,  was  a  good- 
natured  man,  yet  the  possession  of  great  muscular  strength 
and  courage,  and  the  admiration  which  a  successful  exer- 
cise of  those  powers  never  fails  to  command,  had  some- 
what spoiled  him.  Without  meaning  to  injure  any  mortal, 
he  had  managed,  nevertheless,  to  try  his  prowess  on 
sundry  of  his  neighbours ;  and  from  the  success  which 
always  crowned  his  honest  efforts  in  that  wray,  had  uncon- 
sciously acquired  the  character  of  a  bully. 

With  very  few  early  advantages  of  elementary  educa- 
tion, he  had,  nevertheless,  at  different  periods,  collected 
a  mass  of  heterogeneous  information,  which  he  was  very 
fond  of  displaying  on  occasions.  He  was  a  sort  of  politi- 
cal antiquary  ;  and  could  tell  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Jefferson 
or  Mr.  Madison  on  any  subject ;  and  was  referred  to  on 
all  disputed  points,  on  the  theory  and  history  of  the 
government,  that  arose  among  the  candidates  for  the 
legislature,  and  county  politicians.  This  he  studied  on 
account  of  the  consequence  it  invested  him  with.  But 
why  he  had  treasured  up  an  old  :ind  well  thumbed  copy 
7* 


78         THE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN   PASS. 

of  Paine's  "Age  of  Reason,"  and  affected  skepticism  as 
to  the  veracity  of  the  story  of  Jonah  and  the  whale,  and 
Balaam  and  his  ass,  would  be  hard  accounting  for,  unless 
it  proceeded  from  the  desire  of  a  character  for  singularity 
and  erudition.  When  vanity  once  gets  the  mastery  of 
a  man's  reason,  there  is  no  telling  the  absurdities  it  will 
lead  him  into.  He  was  fond  of  speaking  of  Volney,  and  of 
being  found  with  a  copy  of  Taylor's  "  Diegesis"  in  his 
hand,  although  few  of  his  neighbours  had  heard  of  the 
author  of  the  »  Ruins,"  or  knew  what  Diegesis  meant. 

This  peculiarity,  together  with  the  pertinacity  of  the 
missionaries,  Worcester  and  Butler,  which  carried  them 
to  the  penitentiary,  may  account  for  the  great  aversion  of 
Mr.  Edward  Forgeron  to  all  preachers  of  the  gospel. 

His  dislike  for  them  was  so  excessive,  that  he  could 
scarcely  speak  of  the  "  hypocritical  scoundrels,"  as  he 
called  them,  without  flying  into  a  passion,  and  using  inde- 
corous language.  But  a  circumstance  occurred,  which 
gave  his  zeal  a  distinct  and  sectarian  direction.  A  Me- 
thodist preacher  over  in  Tennessee,  who  was  fond  of  spic- 
ing his  discourse  with  anecdotes,  once  made  him  the 
principal  character  in  a  long  sermon.  His  peculiarities 
were  dilated  on,  and  his  heresies  dealt  with  in  becoming 
severity.  He  was  ridiculed,  and  his  literary  acquirements 
disparaged  by  the  preacher.  All  this  came  to  the  ears  of 
Forgeron,  with  such  additions  and  embellishments  as 
stories  usually  receive  in  passing  to  a  third  person.  It 
would  be  as  useless  to  attempt  to  describe  a  mountain- 
storm,  as  to  picture  the  wrath  of  this  mountaineer.  But 
if  we  cannot  portray  the  storm,  the  consequences  may  be 
easily  told.  The  blacksmith  swore  in  his  wrath  he  would 
whip  every  Methodist  preacher  that  passed  the  gap,  in 
/evenge  of  his  insult. 

Forgeron  was  a  man  of  his  word,  as  the  bruised  fea- 


THE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS.         79 

tures  of  many  of  John  Wesley's  disciples  could  testify. 
His  character  soon  went  abroad,  and  the  good  old  ma- 
trons of  the  surrounding  counties  on  each  side  of  the 
mountain  trembled  at  his  name.  In  short,  the  mountain 
pass,  which  was  really  as  romantic  a  place  as  a  landscape 
painter  would  seek  for  a  picture,  and  was  just  the  spot 
to  remind  a  youth,  fresh  from  his  classic  studies,  of  the 
place  where  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred  Spartans 
fell,  in  attempting  to  defend  Greece  against  the  army  of 
Xerxes — in  despite  of  the  grandeur  of  its  beetling  cliffs 
and  the  beauty  of  its  verdure,  was  associated  in  the  minds 
of  many  pious  persons,  with  the  broad  gate  that  lead  to 
destruction.  And  Ned  Forgeron,  the  handsome  black- 
smith, was  invested  with  the  attributes  and  hideous  as- 
pect of  his  Satanic  Majesty,  by  many  a  mountain  girl 
who  would  doubtless  have  fallen  in  "love  at  first  sight" 
with  him  under  any  other  name.  The  preacher  whose 
circuit  lay  on  either  side  of  the  mountain,  at  the  time 
Ned's  direful  edict  was  promulgated  to  the  world,  was 
a  meek  and  lowly  man,  who  approached  nearly  in  his 
natural  disposition  to  willing  obedience  to  the  mandate, 
relative  to  turning  the  cheek  to  the  smiter.  The  poor 
soul  passed  many  sleepless  nights,  in  view  of  the  fate  that 
awaited  him  at  the  mountain  pass.  In  his  dreams  he 
saw  Forgeron,  with  a  huge  sledge-hammer  in  his  hand, 
ready  to  dash  out  his  brains,  and  would  start  with  such 
violence  as  to  wake  himself.  He  inquired  if  there  was 
no  other  place  at  which  the  mountain  could  be-  passed, 
only  to  learn  his  doom  more  certainly.  Being  a  timid 
man,  but  withal  devoutly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  duty, 
he  resolved  to  discharge  his  duties  faithfully,  be  the  con- 
sequences what  they  might.  Like  a  lamb  going  to  the 
slaughter  did  he  wend  his  way  toward  the  gap  ;  as  he 
came  in  front  of  the  shop,  the  blacksmith  was  striking 


80         THE   BLACKSMITH    OP   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS. 

the  last  blow  on  a  shovel,  and  singing  away  the  tune  of 
«  Clear  the  Kitchen" — 

"  Old  Georgia  is  a  noble  State, 

Her  laws  are  good,  her  people  great." 

On  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  poor  parson,  who  had 
flattered  himself  that  he  was  about  to  pass  with  impunity, 
Ned  sung  out — "  Stop,  there,  you  eternal  shad-belly,  and 
pay  the  penalty  for  my  injured  reputation  !"  The  holy 
man  protested  innocence  of  having  ever  intentionally 
injured  him,  by  word,  or  deed. 

The  man's  subdued  looks  and  earnest  voice,  had  half 
dissuaded  Ned  from  his  stern  purpose,  when  the  giggling 
of  his  striker,  and  the  cheering  of  two  or  three  idlers, 
nerved  him  to  do  what  he  felt  was  mean.  Let  any  one 
pause  a  moment,  and  reflect  if  he  has  never  been  urged 
on  to  acts  his  conscience  smote  him  for  by  the  opinions 
of  others,  before  Mr.  Forgeron  is  sentenced  as  a  devil. 
The  preacher  received  several  boxes  on  his  ears,  and  heard 
many  denunciations  against  his  sect  before  he  was  per- 
mitted to  depart ;  and  when  that  permission  was  received, 
he  was  not  slow  in  availing  himself  of  the  privilege. 

At  the  next  annual  conference,  when  circuits  were 
assigned  to  the  different  preachers,  this  one  made  his 
appearance  punctually,  but  by  some  process  of  casuistry 
convinced  himself  that  his  duty  did  not  call  for  a  revela- 
tion of  his  sufferings.  Whether  he  was  too  sensitive  of 
the  blacksmith's  characterto  expose  it  to  rude  remark,  or 
had  a  preference  that  some  worthier  brother  should 
occupy  that  healthy  station  among  the  mountains,  is  dif- 
ficult to  conjecture. 

But  Forgeron's  reputation  had  extended  beyond  the 
circuit,  and  was  done  ample  and  severe  justice  toby  others 
who  had  heard  of  his  fame.     It  soon  became  the  subject 


THE    BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS.         81 

of  animated  conversation,  and  there  was  no  little  wincing, 
each  one  fearing  it  would  be  his  cruel  fate  to  be  sent  a 
victim  to  appease  the  wrath  of  this  human  minotaur 
against  the  Methodist  church. 

After  a  time,  it  was  decreed  that  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Stubbleworth  was  the  doomed  individual,  and  when  the 
annunciation  came,  many  an  eye  of  mingled  pity  and 
curiosity  was  turned  on  his  ruddy,  good-natured  face,  to 
see  how  the  dispensation  wTas  borne  ;  but  not  a  muscle 
moved.  With  a  quiet  smile,  he  professed  a  perfect  wil- 
lingness to  go  where  he  was  sent.  He  was  "  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter,"  he  said.  If  he  piqued  himself  on 
a  stolid  indifference  to  the  blacksmith's  pummelings,  or 
if  he  relied  on  his  ample  dimensions  to  protect  himself,  he 
never  disclosed  it,  but  appeared  as  self-satisfied  and  con- 
tent as  ever.  His  predecessor  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  mouse  just  escaped  from  the  fangs  of  some  terrible 
grimalkin. 

Mr.  Stubbleworth  arranged  his  few  sublunary  affairs, 
and  bidding  his  friends  adieu,  mounted  his  old  roan  and 
departed  for  his  new  home  of  trials,  with  a  song  of  praise 
on  his  lips.     Let  us  hope  the  best  for  him. 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Stubbleworth  was  very  much  pleased 
with  his  new  situation.  Having  been  transferred  from  a 
level  pine-woods  country,  near  the  confines  of  Florida, 
the  novelty  of  mountain  scenery  and  a  pure  bracing  at- 
mosphere seemed  to  inspire  him  with  new  life.  Compli- 
menting all  the  mothers  on  the  singular  beauty  and  intel- 
ligence of  their  children,  with  a  delicate  allusion  to  their 


82         THE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS. 

own  personal  appearance,  he  soon  became  a  general  fa- 
vourite. Mr.  Stubbleworth  "  knew  which  side  of  his  bread 
the  butter  was  on."  The  time  arriving  for  his  departure 
to  visit  the  tramontane  portion  of  his  pastoral  care,  he  was 
warned  of  the  dangers  he  was  about  to  encounter ;  but 
they  were  heard  with  the  same  placid  smile.  The  worthy 
ladies  pictured  to  him  "  chimeras  dire,"  sufficient  to  have 
abated  the  zeal  of  any  other  individual.  But  that  gentle- 
man quieted  their  fears,  by  appealing  to  the  power  that 
"  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  with  a  coun- 
tenance as  lamb-like  as  could  be  imagined.  And  he 
departed  singing — 

"At  home  or  abroad,  on  the  land,  on  the  sea, 
As  thy  wants  may  demand,  shall  thy  strength  ever  be." 

They  watched  him  until  his  portly  person  and  horse 
grew  dim  in  the  distance,  and  turned  away,  sighing  that 
such  a  good  man  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  that  mon- 
ster, the  blacksmith.  Forgeron  had  heard  of  his  new  vic- 
tim, and  rejoiced  that  his  size  and  appearance  furnished  a 
better  subject  for  his  vengeance  than  the  attenuated  frame 
of  the  late  parson.  Oh,  what  nice  beating  he  would  have  ! 
He  had  heard  too  that  some  Methodist  preachers  were 
rather  spirited,  and  hoped  this  one  might  prove  so,  that 
he  might  provoke  him  to  fight.  Knowing  the  clergyman 
must  pass  on  Saturday  in  the  afternoon,  he  gave  his  striker 
holiday,  and  reclining  on  a  bench,  regaled  himself  on  the 
beauties  of  Tom  Paine,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  preach- 
er.    It  was  not  over  an  hour  before  he  heard  the  words, 

"How  happy  are  they,  who  their  Saviour  obey, 
And  have  laid  up  their  treasure  above," 

sung  in  a  full  clear  voice,  and  soon  the  vocalist,  turning 
the  angle  of  a  rock,  rode  leisurely  up  with  a  contented 
smile  on  his  face. 


TIIE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS.         83 

"How  are  you,  old  slab-sides?  Get  off  your  horse 
and  join  in  my  devotions !"  said  the  blacksmith. 

"  I  have  many  miles  to  ride,"  answered  the  preacher, 
"  and  have'nt  time,  my  friend  ;  I'll  call  as  I  return." 

"  Your  name  is  Stubbleworth,  and  you  are  the  hypocrite 
the  Methodists  have  sent  here,  eh?" 

"  My  name  is  Stubbleworth,"  he  meekly  replied. 

«<  Didn't  you  know  my  name  was  Ned  Forgeron,  the 
blacksmith,  what  whips  every  Methodist  preacher  that 
goes  through  this  gap  ?"  was  asked  with  an  audacious 
look  ;  «  and  how  dare  you  come  here  ?" 

The  preacher  replied  that  he  had  heard  Mr.  Forgeron's 
name,  but  presumed  he  did  not  molest  well-behaved 
travellers. 

"  You  presumed  so  !  Yes,  you  are  the  most  presumptu- 
ous people,  you  Methodists,  that  ever  trod  shoe  leather, 
anyhow.  Well,  what'll  you  do  if  I  don't  whip  you  this 
time,  you  beef-headed  disciple,  you  ?" 

Mr.  Stubbleworth  professed  his  willingness  to  do  any- 
thing reasonable,  to  avoid  such  penance. 

"  Well,  there's  three  things  you  have  to  do,  or  I'll  maul 
you  into  a  jelly.  The  first  is,  you  are  to  quit  preaching  ; 
the  second  is,  you  mu§t  wear  this  last  will  and  testament 
of  Thomas  Paine,  next  to  your  heart,  read  it  every  day, 
and  believe  every  word  you  read  ;  and  the  third  is,  you 
are  to  curse  the  Methodists  in  every  crowd  you  get  into." 

The  preacher  looked  on  during  these  novel  propositions 
without  a  line  of  his  face  being  moved,  and  *at  the  end 
replied,  that  the  terms  were  unreasonable,  and  he  would 
not  submit  to  them. 

"  Well,  you  have  got  a  whaling  to  submit  to,  then  ;  I'll 
larrup  you  like  blazes !  I'll  tear  you  into  doll-rags  corner- 
ways.     Get  down,  you  beggar!" 

The  preacher  remonstrated,  but  Forgeron  walked  up  to 


84        THE   BLACKSMITH   OF  THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS. 

the  horse,  and  threatened  to  tear  him  off  if  he  did  not 
dismount;  whereupon  the  worthy  man  made  a  virtue  of  a 
necessity,  and  alighted. 

"I  have  but  one  request  to  make  of  you,  my  friend  : 
that  is,  that  you  won't  beat  me  with  this  overcoat  on.  It 
was  a  present  from  the  ladies  of  my  last  circuit,  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  have  it  torn." 

"  Off  with  it,  then,  and  that  suddenly,  you  basin-faced 
imp,  you!" 

The  Methodist  preacher  slowly  drew  off  his  surcoat  as 
the  blacksmith  continued  his  tirade  of  abuse  on  himself 
and  his  sect,  and  as  he  drew  his  right  hand  from  the  sleeve, 
and  threw  the  garment  behind  him,  he  dealt  Mr.  Forgeron 
a  tremendous  blow  between  his  eyes,  which  laid  that  per- 
son at  full  length  on  the  ground,  with  the  testament  of 
Thomas  Paine  beside  him.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Stubble- 
worth,  with  the  tact  of  a  connoisseur  in  such  matters,  did 
not  wait  for  his  adversary  to  rise,  but  mounted  him  with 
the  quickness  of  a  cat,  and  as  he  bestowed  his  blows  with 
a  bounteous  hand  on  the  stomach  and  face  of  the  black- 
smith, continued  his  song  where  he  had  left  off  on  his 
arrival  at  the  smithy: 

» 
"Tongue  cannot  express  the  sweet  comfort  and  peace 
Of  a  soul  in  its  earliest  love." 

Until  Mr.  Forgeron,  from  having  experienced  "  first 
love,"  or  some  other  sensation  equally  new  to  him,  re- 
sponded lustily,  " 'Nough  !  'nough  !  take  him  off."  But 
unfortunately,  there  was  no  one  by  to  perform  that  kind 
office,  except  the  old  roan,  and  he  munched  a  bunch  of 
grass  and  looked  on  as  quietly  as  if  his  master  was  happy 
at  a  camp-meeting. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Stubble  worth,  "  there  are  three  things 
you  must  promise  me  before  I  let  you  up." 


THE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS.         85 

"  What  are  they  ?"  asked  Forgeron,  eagerly. 

"  The  first  is,  that  you  will  never  molest  a  Methodist 
preacher  again."  Here  Ned's  pride  rose,  and  he  hesi- 
tated, and  the  reverend  gentleman,  with  his  usual  benign 
smile  on  his  face,  renewed  his  blows  and  song — 

"  I  rode  on  the  sky,  freely  justified  I, 
And  the  moon  it  was  under  my  feet." 

This  oriental  language  overcame  the  blacksmith ;  such 
bold  figures  or  something  else  causing  him  to  sing  out, 
"Well,  I'll  do  it!  I'll  doit!" 

"  You  are  getting  on  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Stubbleworth. 
"  I  think  I  can  make  a  decent  man  out  of  you  yet,  and 
perhaps  a  Christian  !"    Ned  groaned. 

"  The  second  thing  I  require  of  you  is  to  go  to  Pump- 
kinvine  Creek  meeting-house,  and  hear  me  preach  to- 
morrow." 

Ned  attempted  to  stammer  out  some  excuse — "  I — I — 
that  is—" 

When  the  divine  resumed  his  devotional  hymn,  and 
kept  time  with  the  music  by  striking  him  over  the  face 
with  the  fleshy  part  of  his  hand — 

"  My  soul  mounted  higher,  on  a  chariot  of  fire, 
Nor  did  envy  Elijah  his  seat." 

Ned's  promise  of  punctuality  caused  the  parson's  exer- 
cise to  cease,  and  the  words,  redolent  of  gorgeous  ima- 
gery, died  away  in  echoes  from  the  adjacent  crags. 

"  Now  the  third  and  last  demand  I  make  of  you  is  per- 
emptory." Ned  was  all  attention  to  know  what  was  to 
come  next.  "You  are  to  promise  to  seek  religion,  day 
and  night,  and  never  rest  until  you  obtain  it  at  the  hands 
of  a  merciful  Redeemer."  The  fallen  man  looked  at  the 
declining  sun,  and  then  at  the  parson,  and  knew  not 
8 


86        THE   BLACKSMITH   OF  THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS. 

what  to  say,  when  the  latter  individual  began  to  raise  his 
voice  in  song  once  more,  and  Ned  knew  what  would 
come  next. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  he  said  in  an  humbled  voice. 

"  Well,  that's  a  man  !"  Mr.  Stubbleworth  said.  «  Now 
get  up  and  go  down  to  the  Branch  and  wash  your  face, 
and  dust  your  clothes,  and  tear  up  Mr.  Paine's  testament, 
and  turn  your  thoughts  on  high." 

Ned  arose  with  feelings  he  had  never  experienced  be- 
fore, and  went  to  obey  the  lavatory  injunction  of  the 
preacher ;  when  that  gentleman  mounted  his  horse,  took 
Ned  by  the  hand,  and  said  "  Keep  your  promises  and  I'll 
keep  your  counsel.  Good  evening,  Mr.  Forgeron,  I'll 
look  for  you  to-morrow,"  and  off  he  rode  with  the  same 
imperturbable  countenance,  singing  so  loud  as  to  scare  the 
eagles  from  their  eyries  in  the  overhanging  rocks. 

"  Well,"  thought  Ned,  »  this  is  a  nice  business  !  What 
would  people  say,  if  they  knew  that  Edward  Forgeron 
was  whipped  before  his  own  door  in  the  gap,  and  by  a 
Methodist  preacher,  too  ?"  But  his  musings  were  more  in 
sorrow  than  in  anger. 


CHAPTER     III. 

The  disfigured  countenance  of  Forgeron  was  of  course 
the  subject  of  numerous  questions  that  night  among  his 
friends,  to  which  he  replied  with  a  stern  look  they  well 
understood,  and  the  vague  remark  that  he  had  met  with  an 
accident.  Of  course  they  never  dreamed  of  the  true  cause. 
Forgeron  looked  in  the  glass,  and  perhaps  compared  the 
changing  hues  of  his  "  black  eye  from  a  recent  scuffle," 
to  the  rainbow  in  the  shipwreck  scene — «  blending  every 


THE    BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS.         87 

colour  into  one."  Or  perhaps  he  had  never  read  that 
story,  and  only  muttered  to  himself,  <<  Ned  Forgeron 
whipped  by  a  Methodist  preacher  !" 

His  dreams  that  night  were  of  a  confused  and  disa- 
greeable nature,  and  waking  in  the  morning,  he  had  an 
indistinct  memory  of  something  unpleasant  having  oc- 
curred. At  first  he  could  not  recollect  the  cause  of  his 
feelings  ;  but  the  bruises  on  his  face  and  body  soon  called 
them  to  mind,  as  well  as  the  promise.  He  mounted  his 
horse  in  silence,  and  went  to  redeem  it. 

From  that  time  his  whole  conduct  manifested  a  change 
of  feeling.  The  gossips  of  the  neighbourhood  observed 
it,  and  whispered  that  Ned  was  silent,  serious,  and  had 
gone  to  meeting  every  Sunday  since  the  accident.  They 
wondered  at  his  burning  the  books  he  used  to  read  so  much. 
Strange  stories  were  circulated  as  to  this  metamorphosis 
of  the  jovial  dare-devil  blacksmith  into  a  gloomy  and 
taciturn  man.  Some  supposed,  very  sagely,  that  a 
spirit  had  enticed  him  into  the  mountains,  and  after  giv- 
ing him  a  glimpse  into  the  future,  had  misled  him  to  a 
crag,  where  he  had  fallen  and  bruised  his  face.  Others 
gave  the  Prince  of  Darkness  the  credit  of  the  change ;  but 
none  suspected  the  Methodist  preacher,  and  as  the  latter 
gentleman  had  no  vanity  to  gratify,  the  secret  remained 
with  Ned.  This  gloomy  state  of  mind  continued  until 
Forgeron  visited  a  camp-meeting.  The  Reverend  Mr. 
Stubbleworth  preached  a  sermon  that  seemed  to  enter  his 
soul,  and  relieved  it  of  a  burden,  and  the  song  of 

"  How  happy  are  they  who  their  Saviour  obey,'' 

was  only  half  through  when  he  felt  like  a  new  man.  For- 
geron was  from  that  time  "  a  shouting  Methodist."  At  a 
love  feast,  a  short  time  subsequent,  he  gave  in  his  expe- 
rience, and  revealed  the  mystery  of  his  conviction  and 


88         THE   BLACKSMITH    OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    PASS. 

conversion  to  his  astonished  neighbours.  The  Reverend 
Simon  Stubbleworth,  who  had  faithfully  kept  the  secret 
until  that  time,  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  but  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  in  convulsive  peals  of  laughter,  as  the 
burning  tears  of  heartfelt  joy  coursed  their  way  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  Yes,  my  brethren,"  he  said,  "  it's  all  a  fact:  I  did 
maul  the  grace  into  his  unbelieving  soul,  there's  no 
doubt." 

The  blacksmith  of  the  mountain  pass  became  a  happy 
man,  and  a  Methodist  preacher. 


"PERTATERS  AND  TERNUPS." 

BY    A    SOUTH    CAROLINIAN. 

The  writer  of  the  following  signs  himself  Sjjoondrift,  and  hails 
from  Columbia,  South  Carolina.  "  Further,  deponent  saith 
not." 

About  a  stone's  throw  (by  telegraph)  to  the  southward 
of  the  Empire  State,  lies  a  country,  sometimes  known  as 
the  "  Palmetto  State."  It  does  raise  a  fair  «  crop  of  spicy 
yarns,  an'  this  is  one  of  'em." 

C a  is  something  of  a  village,  and  noted  as  being 


cumbered  by  a  wag  of  a  young  doctor,  or  perhaps  it  were 
better  to  say,  that  it  contained  a  bran  new,  bright,  and 
polished  journeyman  sawbones,  just  out  of  his  time,  and 
who  loved  a  practical  joke  beyond  all  things  else.  Not- 
withstanding he  was  pitiless,  sparing  neither  age,  sex, 
nor  condition,  and  as  ready  to  hoax  a  friend  as  a  stranger, 
he  never  lacked  assistance  from  his  acquaintances  when- 
ever he  had  concocted  a  "  stringer."  All  are  ready  to 
assist  a  guy ;  consequently  our  "  Pills"  was  at  no  loss  for 
coadjutors. 

Premise  3d. — The  parallelogram  which  constitutes  the 
"  square"  of  the  "  settlins"  aforewritten,  is  devoted  to 
the  business  portion  of  the  place,  and  contains  several 
hotels,  groceries,  and  what  not,  with  "quiet  retreats"  for 
the  "sovereigns,"  who  there  most  do  congregate.  Of 
course  the  "  square"  is  the  market-place,  and  in  one  por- 
tion of  it  may  always  be  found  the  farmers  of  the  vicinity, 
with  the  products  of  their  vegetable  gardens,  and  fruit 
8  *  (89) 


90  PERTATERS   AND   TERNUPS. 

"plantins."     The  "  Cracker"  brings  in  his  load,  plants 
it  near  the  walk,  and  waits  for  a  bid. 

An  early  bird  was  our  doctor,  and  he  generally  "  raked 
a  worm"  before  breakfast.  Sauntering  round  the  market 
one  morning,  he  espied  a  brawny  Cracker  'tending  a  load 
of  vegetables,  upon  the  top  of  which  was  displayed  a 
placard,  fastened,  a  la  finger-post,  with  the  following 
inscription : 

"PERTATERS  AND  TERNUPS." 

One  second,  and  all  was  arranged.  With  spectacles 
upon  nose,  and  face  elongated,  with  every  appearance 
of  an  anxious  inquirer,  the  doctor  bustled  up  to  the  owner 
of  the  "fruit." 

Dr. —  Good-morning,  stranger. 

Cracker. — Good-morn'n. 

Dr. — What  have  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (pointing  to  placard). — Pertaters  en  ternups. 

Dr. — Got  any  eggs  ? 

C. — No,  I  didn't  bring  none. 

With  this  the  Dr.  boomed,  and  making  for  the  first 
grocery,  he  "  put  the  boss  on  the  lay."  Ben  broke  for 
the  Cracker,  and  a  colloquy  like  the  following  ensued  : 

Ben. — Good-morn'n,  stranger. 

C. — Good-morn'n. 

Ben — What  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (again  pointing  to  placard). — Pertaters  en  ternups. 

Ben. — Got  any  eggs  ? 

C.  (looking  testy). — Aiggs  ?     Aiggs  be  d d 

Ad  interim,  the  Dr.  had  inserted  himself  into  another 
"  quiet  retreat,"  where  his  instructions  were  duly  repeated, 
and  carried  out  by  Ike  in  this  wise : — 

Ike  (approaching). —  Good-morning,  stranger! 

C.  (eyeing  him). — Good-morn'n. 


PERTATERS   AND   TERNUPS.  91 

Ike. — Wot  ev  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (pointing,  and  eyeing  Ike  very  sharp). — Pertaters  en 
ternups. 

Ike  (anxiously). — Got  any  eggs  ? 

C.  (looking  fight  at  Ike. — JVb — Aiggs  ?  H — /,  no ! 

Meanwhile  the  energetic  Dr.  had  accomplished  his 
fourth  eye-opener,  and  enlisted  the  proprietor  of  the  estab- 
lishment in  furtherance  of  the  joke.  Shaly,  taking  along 
with  him  a  boy  who  toted  a  pair  of  very  large  baskets, 
presented  himself  to  our  vegetable  tender.  Shaly — obese, 
rubicund,  coatless,  fine  teeth,  age  30,  weight  2601bs. ; 
boy,  age  40,  weight  110,  mouth  open  on  the  back,  several 
teeth,  lips  resembling  a  railroad  embankment,  eyes  (of 
course)  spread. 

Shaly. —  Good-morning,  stranger?  ( interrogatively. \ 

C.  (looks  at  boy,  and  points  to  placard). — Good-morn'n. 

Shaly — What  have  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (surprised,  but  still  points) — Pertaters  en  ternups. 

Shaly  (backing  out  a  little,  as  if  disappointed) — Got 
any  eggs? 

C.  (first  at  Shaly  and  then  at  boy). — Aiggs !  in  them 
baskets  ! 

[Exit  Shaly  and  boy.  Enter  an  outsider,  rather  timid, 
but  desires  to  buy  some  marketing.  Sees  the  wagon,  but 
not  the  sign.] 

Outsider. — Good- morning  (timidly). 

C.  (curtly). — Yes — taters? 

O. — No.     Have  you 

C.  (short). — Ternups  ? 

O.  (deprecatingly). — No.     Have  you  got  any- 


C.  (wrathfully). — Aiggs  en  be  d d  to  yer  !     No, 

Sir. 

[Outsider  leaves.     Appears  another  of  the  Doctor  s 


92  PERTATER3   ASD   TERNUPS. 

crowd.  Examines  cart  and  Cracker.  Sees  a  box  in 
front,  and  fixing  his  eye  upon  it,  remarks — ] 

Good-morning,  stranger. 

C.  (slowly). — Good-morn'n. 

Pur. — What  have  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (measuring  our  friend  from  head  to  heel,  and  evi- 
dently suspecting  a  hoax.  Gent  very  grave,  sedate,  and 
business-like,  anxiously  awaits  an  answer.  C.  satisfied, 
says  smilingly) — Pertaters  en  turnups. 

Pur.  (Craning  forward,  and  looking  at  box  in  wagon). 
— Got  any  eggs  9 

C.  (seizing  "taters"  in  one  hand,  and  "ternups"  in 
t'other,  shouts). — Is  them  aiggs?  Kin  you  seel  Em  I 
aiggs  ?     No,  sir ! 

It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  recount  the  dialogues 
of  the  various  individuals  who  were  "  sent  up"  by  our 
Dr.  to  purchase  eggs  ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  after  «  tendin' 
his  load"  during  market  hours,  our  unlucky  jokee, 
badgered  and  baited  with  a  constant  recurrence  of  the 
inquiry  for  embryo  hens,  not  having  succeeded  in  dispos- 
ing of  any  of  his  «  roots,"  concluded  to  "  hitch  up,"  and 
put  for  home  and  "  a  market." 

On  the  outskirt  of  the  «  settlins,"  and  on  the  Cracker's 
road  homewards,  stood  a  hotel,  kept  by  a  very  worthy, 
jolly  personage,  yclept  Mabin.  Now  Mabe  was  the  soul 
of  good  nature,  and  very  attentive  to  his  guest,  whether 
of  high  or  low  degree.  The  boys  did  say  that  he  drank 
— if  he  did  not,  how  did  he  attain  his  rotundity  ? 

Our  "  pertaters"  was  acquainted  with  Mabe,  and  as  he 
never  omitted  calling  on  his  way  out,  he  lit.  Of  course 
Mabe  was  innocent  of  the  "  string."  Mabe  hearing 
wheels,  rolls  himself  out  on  the  "  pizarro,"  and  hailed,  as 
our  friend  was  hitching  old  Ball  for  a  short  stop.  Said 
Mabe — Good-morning,  neighbour. 


PERTATERS   AND   TERNUPS.  93 

C.  (carelessly). — Good-morn'n. 

Mabe. — What  have  you  got  to  sell  ? 

C.  (pricking  up  his  ears,  and  advancing  up  the  steps 
towards  Mabe). — Hey  ? 

Mabe. — What  have  you  got  to  sell  there  ?  (pointing  to 
the  cart.) 

"  Pertaters"  paused  a  moment,  and  thrusting  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  drew  forth  an  ancient  jack-knife,  the  blade 
of  which,  from  its  numerous  applications  to  a  grindstone, 
was  abbreviated  to  the  length  of  about  two  inches.  Open- 
ing it  with  a  jerk,  taking  a  firm  grasp,  and  poising  it 
threateningly,  he  slowly  and  impressively  said — "  Perta- 
ters end  ternups,  Mabin — but  don't  yer  say  aiggs,  Mabin  ! 
Ef  yer  do,  I'll  sample  yer  gizzard!" 


THE  COON-HUNT ;  OK,  A  FENCY  COUNTRY. 

BY   MAJOR   JOS.    JONES, 

Of  Pineville,  Geo. 

'Tis  really  astonishin  what  a  monstrous  sight  of  mis- 
chief there  is  in  a  pint  of  rum.  If  one  of  'em  was  to  be 
submitted  to  an  analization,  as  the  doctors  call  it,  it  would 
be  found  to  contain  all  manner  of  devilment  that  ever 
entered  the  hed  of  man,  from  cussin  and  stealin  up  to 
murder  and  whippin  his  own  mother,  and  nonsense  enuflT 
to  turn  all  the  men  in  the  world  out  of  their  senses.  If  a 
man's  got  any  badness  in  him,  it'll  bring  it  out  jest  as 
sassafras  tea  does  the  measles,  and  if  he's  a  good  for 
nothin  sort  of  a  feller,  without  no  bad  traits  in  pertikeler, 
it'll  bring  out  all  his  greenness.  It  affects  different  peo- 
ple in  different  ways — it  makes  some  men  monstrous 
brave  and  full  of  fight,  and  some  it  makes  cowards — some 
it  makes  rich  and  happy,  and  some  poor  and  miserable ; 
and  it  has  a  different  effect  on  different  people's  eyes — 
some  it  makes  see  double,  and  some  it  makes  so  blind 
that  they  can't  tell  themselves  from  a  side  of  bacon.  One 
of  the  worst  cases  of  rum-foolery  that  I've  heard  of  for  a 
long  time,  tuk  place  in  Pineville  last  fall. 

Bill  Sweeney  and  Tom  Culpepper  is  the  two  greatest 
old  coveys  in  our  settlement  for  coon-huntin.  The  fact 
is,  they  don't  do  much  of  anything  else,  and  when  they 
can't  ketch  nothin  you  may  depend  coons  is  scarce. 
Well,  one  night  they  had  everything  reddy  for  a  regular 
hunt,  but  owin  to  some  extra  good  fortin,  Tom  had  got  a 

(94) 


THE    COON-HUNT.  95 

pocket-pistol,  as  he  called  it,  of  reglar  old  Jimmakey,  to 
keep  off  the  rumatics.  After  takin  a  good  startin  horn, 
they  went  out  on  their  hunt,  with  their  lite-wood  torch  a 
blazin,  and  the  dogs  a  barkin  and  yelpin  like  forty  thou- 
sand. Evry  now  and  then  stoppin  to  wait  for  the  dogs, 
they  would  drink  one  another's  helth,  till  they  begun  to 
feel  very  comfortable,  and  chatted  away  bout  one  thing 
and  another,  without  mindin  much  which  way  they  was 
gwine.  Bimeby  they  cum  to  a  fence.  Well,  over  they 
got,  'thout  much  difficulty. 

"Who's  fence  is  this?"  ses  Bill. 

"  'Taint  no  matter,"  ses  Tom,  «  let's  take  suthin  to 
drink." 

After  takin  a  drink  they  went  on,  wonderin  what  on 
yearth  had  cum  of  the  dogs.  Next  thing  they  cum  to  was- 
a  terrible  muddy  branch.  After  pullin  through  the  briers 
and  gettin  on  tother  side,  they  tuck  another  drink,  and 
after  gwine  a  little  ways  they  cum  to  another  branch,  and 
a  little  further  they  cum  to  another  fence — a  monstrous 
high  one  this  time. 

"  Whar  upon  yearth  is  we  got  to,  Culpepper?"  ses  Bill, 
"  I  never  seed  sich  a  heap  of  branches  and  fences  in  these 
parts." 

"  Why,"  ses  Tom,  "it's  all  old  Sturlin's  doins — you 
know  he's  always  bildin  fences  and  making  infernal 
improvements,  as  he  calls  'em.  But  never  mind — we's 
through  them  now." 

"  Guess  we  is,"  ses  Bill ;  "  here's  the  all-firedest  tall 
fence  yet." 

Shure  enurF,  thar  they  was  right  agin  another  fence.  By 
this  time,  they  begun  to  be  considerable  tired  and  limber 
in  the  gints,  and  it  was  sich  a  terrible  high  fence — Tom 
drapped  the  last  piece  of  the  torch,  and  thar  they  was  in 
the  dark. 


96  THE   COON-HUNT. 

«  Now  you  is  done  it,"  ses  Bill. 

Tom  know'd  he  had,  but  he  thought  it  was  no  use  to 
grieve  over  spilled  milk,  so  ses  he,  "  Never  mind,  old  hoss 
— cum  ahead,  and  I'll  take  you  out,"  and  the  next  minit 
kerslash  he  went  into  the  water. 

Bill  hung  on  to  the  fence  with  both  hands  like  he  thought 
it  was  slewin  round  to  throw  him  off. 

"  Hellow,  Tom,"  ses  he,  "  whar  in  the  world  is  you 
got  to?" 

"  Here  I  is,"  ses  Tom,  spoutin  the  water  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  coffin  like  he'd  swallowed  something.  M  Look 
out,  thar's  another  branch  here." 

"  Name  o  'sense,  whar  is  we  ?"  ses  Bill.  «  If  this  isn't 
a  fency  country,  dad  fetch  my  buttons." 

"  Yes,  and  a  branchy  one,  too  !"  ses  Tom  ;  "  and  the 
highest,  and  deepest,  and  thickest  that  I  ever  seed  in  my 
born  days." 

«  Which  way  is  you  ?"  ses  Bill. 

"  Here,  rite  over  the  branch." 

The  next  minit  in  Bill  went,  up  to  his  middle  m  the 
branch. 

"  Cum  ahead,"  ses  Tom,  "let's  go  home." 

«  Cum  thunder  !  in  such  a  place  as  this,  whar  a  man 
hain't  more'n  got  his  cote  tail  unhitched  from  a  fence, 
fore  he's  over  his  head  and  ears  in  the  water." 

After  gettin  out  and  feelin  about  in  the  dark  a  little, 
they  got  together  agin.  After  takin  another  drink,  they 
sot  out  for  home,  denouncin  the  fences  and  the  branches, 
and  helpin  one  another  up  now  and  then  ;  but  they  hadn't 
got  more'n  twenty  yards  fore  they  brung  up  all  standin  in 
the  middle  of  another  branch.  After  gettin  thro'  the 
branch  and  gwine  about  ten  steps,  they  was  brung  to  a 
halt  by  another  fence. 

"  Dad  blame  my  pictur,"  ses  Bill,  «  if  I  don't  think 


THE    COON    nUNT.  97 

we  is  bewitched.  Who  upon  yearth  would  bild  fences  all 
over  creation  this  way  ?" 

It  was  but  a  ower's  job  to  get  over  this  one,  but  after 
they  got  on  the  top  they  found  the  ground  on  tother  side 
'thout  much  trouble.  This  time  the  bottle  was  broke,  and 
they  come  monstrous  near  having  a  fight  about  the  catas- 
trofy.  But  it  was  a  very  good  thing,  it  was,  for  after 
crossin  two  or  three  more  branches,  and  climbin  as  many 
more  fences,  it  got  to  be  daylight,  and  they  found  out  that 
they  had  been  climbin  the  same  fence  all  night ,  not  more'n 
a  hundred  yards  from  whar  they  first  cum  to  it. 

Bill  Sweeney  ses  he  can't  account  for  it  no  other  way 
but  that  the  licker  sort  o'  turned  their  heads,  and  he  says 
he  does  really  believe  if  it  hadn't  gin  out  they'd  been 
climbin  that  same  fence,  and  wadin  that  same  branch  till 
yet.  Bill  promised  his  wife  to  jine  the  Temperance  So  • 
ciety  if  she  won't  never  say  no  more  bout  that  Coon-Hunt. 


•  "DOING"  A  SHERIFF. 

A  Georgia  Sketch. 

BY    THE    EDITOR. 

(With  an  Illustration.) 

Many  persons  in  the  county  of  Hall,  State  of  Georgia, 
recollect  a  queer  old  customer  who  used  to  visit  the  county 
site  regularly  on  "  General  Muster"  days  and  Court  Week. 
His  name  was  Joseph  Johnson,  but  he  was  universally 
known  as  Uncle  Josey.  The  old  man,  like  many  others 
of  that  and  the  present  day,  loved  his  dram,  and  was  apt, 
when  he  got  among  "  the  boys"  in  town,  to  take  more 
than  he  could  conveniently  carry.  His  inseparable  com- 
panion on  all  such  occasions  was  a  black  pony,  who 
rejoiced  in  the  name  of  "  General  Jackson,"  and  whose 
diminutiveness  and  sagacity  were  alike  remarkable. 

One  day,  while  court  was  in  session  in  the  little  village 
of  Gainesville,  the  attention  of  the  Judge  and  bar  was 
attracted  by  a  rather  unusual  noise  at  the  door.  Looking 
towards  that  aperture,  "  his  honour"  discovered  the  afore- 
said pony  and  rider  deliberately  entering  the  Hall  of  Jus- 
tice. This,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  floor  of  the  court 
house  was  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  was  not 
difficult. 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  the  Judge,  "  see  who  is  creating 
such  a  disturbance  of  this  court." 

"  It's  only  Uncle  Josey  and  Gin'rel  Jackson,  Judge," 
said  the  intruder,  looking  up  with  a  drunken  leer,  «  Jest 
me  an'  the  Gin'rel  come  to  see  how  you  an'  the  boys  is 
gettin'  along." 

(98) 


, 


■V 

"DOING"  A  SHERIFF. 
"  It's  only  Uncle  Jusey  and  Gin'rel  Jackson,  Judge" — Page  98, 


DOING   A   SHERIFF.  99 

"Well,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  the  Judge,  totally  regardless 
of  the  interest  manifested  in  his  own  and  the  lawyers' 
behalf,  by  Uncle  Josey,  "you  will  please  collect  a  fine  of 
ten  dollars  from  Uncle  Josey  and  the  General,  for  con- 
tempt of  court." 

««  Look-a-here,  Judge,  old  feller,"  continued  Uncle 
Josey,  as  he  stroked  the  "  Gin'ralV  mane,  "you  don't 
mean  to  say  it,  now  do  yer  ?  This  child  hain't  had  that 
much  money  in  a  coon's  age,  and  as  for  the  Gin'ral  here, 
I  know  he  don't  deal  in  no  kind  of  quine,  which  he  hain't 
done,  'cept  fodder  and  corn,  for  these  many  years." 

"  Very  well,  then,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  continued  his  honour, 
"  in  default  of  the  payment  of  the  fine,  you  will  convey 
the  body  of  Joseph  Johnson  to  the  county  jail,  there  to  be 
retained  for  the  space  of  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Now,  Judge,  you  ain't  in  right  down  good  yearnest,  is 
you  ? — Uncle  Josey  hain't  never  been  put  into  that  there 
boardin  house,  yet,  which  he  dont  want  to  be,  neither," 
appealed  the  old  man,  who  was  apparently  too  drunk  to 
know  whether  it  was  a  joke  or  not. 

"  The  sheriff  will  do  his  duty,  immediately,"  was  the 
Judge's  stern  reply,  who  began  to  tire  of  the  old  man's 
drunken  insolence.  Accordingly,  Uncle  Josey  and  the 
"  Gin'ral"  were  marched  off  towards  the  county  prison, 
which  stood  in  a  retired  part  of  the  village.  Arriving  at 
the  door,  the  prisoner  was  commanded  by  the  sheriff  to 
"light." 

"  Look-a-here,  Jess,  horse-fly,  you  aint  a  gwine  to  put 
yer  old  Uncle  Josey  in  there,  is  yer  ?" 

"  'Bliged  to  do  it,  Uncle  Josey,"  replied  the  sheriff, 
"  ef  I  don't,  the  old  man  (the  judge)  will  give  me  goss 
when  I  go  back.     I  hate  it  powerful,  but  I  must  do  it." 

"But,  Jess,  couldn't  you  manage  to  let  the  old  man  git 
away?   Thar  ain't  nobody  here  to  see  you.   Now  do,  Jess, 


100  DOING  A   SHERIFF. 

you  know  how  I  Jit  for  you,  in  that  last  run  you  had  'long 
er  Jim  Smith,  what  like  to  a  beat  you  for  sheriff,  which 
he  would  a  done  it,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  yer  Uncle  Josey's 
influence." 

"  I  know  that,  Uncle  Josey,  but  thar  ain't  no  chance. 
My  oath  is  very  pinted  against  allowin  anybody  to  escape. 
So  you  must  go  in,  cos  thar  ain't  no  other  chance." 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Jess,  I'm  afeared  to  go  in  thar. 
Looks  too  dark  and  dismal." 

«  Thar  ain't  nothing  in  thar  to  hurt  you,  Uncle  Josey, 
which  thar  hain't  been  for  nigh  about  six  months." 

"  Yes,  thar  is,  Jess,  you  can't  fool  me  that  a- way.  I 
know  thar  is  somethin'  in  thai  to  ketch  the  old  man." 

"  No  thar  ain't,  I  pledge  you  my  honour  thar  ain't." 

"  Well,  Jess,  if  thar  ain't,  you  jest  go  in  and  see,  and 
show  Uncle  Josey  that  you  ain't  afeared." 

"  Certainly,  I  ain't  afeared  to  go  in." 

Saying  which  the  sheriff  opened  the  door,  leaving 
the  key  in  the  lock.  "  Now,  Uncle  Josey,  what  did  I 
tell  you?     I  know'd  thar  wan't  nothin'  in  thar." 

"  May  be  thar  ain't  where  you  are  standin',  but  jest 
le's  see  you  go  up  into  that  dark  place,  in  the  corner." 

"  Well,  Uncle  Josey,"  said  the  unsuspecting  sheriff, 
"  I'll  satisfy  you  thar  ain't  nothin'  thar  either,"  and  he 
walked  towards  the  "  dark  corner."  As  he  did  so,  the  old 
man  dexterously  closed  the  door  and  locked  it. 

"  Hello  !  thar,"  yelled  the  frightened  officer,  "  none  o' 
yer  tricks,  Uncle  Josey ;  this  is  carryin'  the  joke  a  cus- 
sed sight  too  fur." 

"Joke!  I  ain't  a  jokin',  Jess;  never  was  more  in 
yearnest  in  my  life.  Thar  ain't  nothin'  in  thar  to  hurt 
you  though,  that's  one  consolation.  Jest  hold  on  a  little 
while,  and  I'll  send  some  of  the  boys  down  to  let  you 
out." 


DOINQ   A   SKEx^IFF.  '  '  •  101 

And  before  the  "  sucked  in"  sheriff  had  recovered 
from  his  astonishment,  the  pony  and  his  master  were  out 
of  hearing. 

Uncle  Josey,  who  was  not  as  drunk  as  he  appeared, 
stopped  at  the  grocery,  took  a  drink,  again  mounted  the 
Gin'ral,  and  called  the  keeper  of  the  grocery  to  him — at 
the  same  time  drawing  the  key  of  the  jail  from  his  pocket. 
"  Here,  Jeems,  take  this  here  key,  and  ef  the  old  man  or 
any  them  boys  up  thar  at  the  Court-House  inquires  after 
Jess  Runion,  the  sheriff,  jest  you  give  'em  this  key  and 
my  compliments,  and  tell  'em  Jess  is  safe.  Ketch  'em 
takin'  in  old  Uncle  Josey,  will  yer  ?  Git  up,  Gin'ral,  these 
boys  here  won't  do  to  trust ;  so  we'll  go  into  the  country, 
whar  people's  honest  if  they  is  poor." 

The  sheriff,  after  an  hour's  imprisonment,  was  released, 
and  severely  reprimanded  by  the  judge,  but  the  sentence 
of  Uncle  Josey  was  never  executed,  as  he  never  troubled 
the  Court  again,  and  the  judge  thought  it  useless  to  impri- 
son him  with  any  hope  of  its  effecting  the  slightest  reform. 


A  CASE  OF  SUPPOSITION. 

The  subjoined  petit  morceau  originally  appeared  in  the  New  Orleans 

Picayune. 

A  Texan  returning  home  after  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista, 
having  separated  from  his  companions,  had  his  horse  stolen 
by  the  Indians,  and  was  obliged  to  take  it  on  foot.  Walking 
along;  leisurely  one  Sunday  morning  with  his  rifle  on  his 
shoulder,  looking  out  for  game  to  make  a  breakfast  upon, 
without  knowing  what  day  of  the  week  it  was,  he  sud- 
denly came  to  a  small  stream  on  the  confines  of  Texas, 
not  knowing  that  he  had  as  yet  reached  the  border  of  his 
native  state.  Perceiving  that  the  stream  abounded  in  fish, 
he  took  a  hook  and  line  from  his  pocket,  and,  procuring 
some  worms  for  bait,  sat  down  patiently  on  the  bank, 
wrapped  in  a  brown  study,  thinking  of  his  little  farm  at 
home,  when  a  preacher  who  was  on  a  circuit  rode  sud- 
denly up  and  thus  accosted  him  : 

«  Hallo,  stranger  !  what  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

"Fishing  for  my  breakfast,"  replied  the  imperturbable 
Texan,  without  deigning  to  look  around  at  his  interro- 
gator. 

1     "  Well,  do  you  know  you  are  violating  the  Sabbath?" 
said  the  preacher,  in  a  drawling,  psalm-singing  tone. 

"  No,"  said  the  Texan,  turning  around  and  looking  up 
at  the  preacher  for  the  first  time  with  an  air  of  surprise, 
which  the  preacher  took  for  consternation,  « I  must  be 
somewhar  near  the  white  settlements,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  you  are,"  replied  the  preacher,  "and  violating 

(102) 


A  CASE   OF   SUPPOSITION.  103 

the  Lord's  day,  for  which  you  will  have  to  answer  here- 
after, on  the  great  day  of  judgment." 

The  Texan  looked  up  with  a  supplicating  air,  and  the 
preacher  thinking  his  penitent  mood  a  good  time  to  make 
him  a  convert,  continued  : 

"  Do  you  know,  my  young  friend,  that  you  are  sitting 
on  the  verge  of  the  broad  stream  of  iniquity,  and  without 
you  leave  here  and  turn  into  the  home  paths  of  virtue,  that 
you  will  be  lost  ?  Where  do  you  think  you  would  go  to 
now,"  said  the  preacher,  warming  with  his  own  eloquence, 
"  supposing  the  angel  Gabriel  was  to  blow  his  horn  ?" 

The  Texan  coolly  hauled  in  his  line,  and  fronting  the 
preacher,  said  : 

"  You  ask  me  whar  I  think  I  would  go  to  if  the  angel 
Gabriel  should  blow  his  horn?" 

<<  Yes,"  replied  the  preacher. 

"  Well,  you  see,  wharever  thar  is  an'  if,  the  case  admits 
of  an  argument — now,  you  are  supposing  ain't  you  ?  Well, 
now,  maybe  you  know  whar  a  bee-gum  is  ?  maybe  you've 
hearn  tell  of  these  big  black  bar  hereabouts,  and  maybe 
you've  seen  Injins  ?  Well,  now,  supposin'  you  was  after 
a  bee-gum,  and  one  of  these  big  black  bar  was  after  you, 
and  a  smart  chance  of  red  skins  were  after  the  bar.  Now, 
what  would  you  do — keep  the  tree  from  the  bar,  jine  the 
bar  agin  the  Injins,  jine  the  Injins  agin  the  bar,  or  grease 
and  slope  ?" 


THE    AMATEUR   TICKET-VENDER   AT    THE 

VARIETIES. 

We  clip  the  following  amusing  sketch  from  that  spirited  sheet,  the 
New  Orleans  Delta,  than  which  there  are  few  better  papers 
published. 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  history  of  the  last  bril- 
liant season  of  Placide's  Varieties,  will  remember  that  our 
friend  Tom,  who,  with  many  excellent  qualities,  is  rather 
excitable  and  fly-off-the-handleish,  used  to  have  the  very 
devil  to  play  with  some  of  his  corps  behind  the  scenes, 
especially  the  members  of  the  ballet  corps,  who,  on  the 
strength  of  their  charms  and  influence  over  the  dilletanti, 
frequently  cut  some  rather  fantastic  figures  before  high 
heaven  and  behind  the  green  curtain.  Now,  it  happened 
one  night,  when  there  was  a  great  crowd  thronging  the 
entrance  to  the  theatre,  and  Tom  Placide  was  dealing  out 
in  the  Ticket  Box,  that  word  came  to  him  from  the  stage- 
manager,  that  some  of  the  ladies  of  the  ballet  were  kick- 
ing up  a  bobbery  in  the  dressing-room. 

"  Confound  these  women !"  exclaimed  the  irate  mana- 
ger, with  his  hands  full  of  tickets  of  all  colours,  for  which 
an  impatient  crowd  were  eagerly  hallooing.     «  Here,  Col. 

,"  called  out  Tom  to  a  friend  who  was  present ; 

"  take  these  tickets,  and  deal  them  out  until  I  come  back. 
The  yellow  tickets  are  for  parquette  and  boxes,  the  blue 
ones  for  third  tier,  and  the  white  for  the  coloured  gallery." 

With  this  hurried  explanation,  Placide  dashed   out  of 

(104) 


THE  AMATEUR  TICKET-VENDER.  105 

the  Ticket-Box,  leaving  his  substitute  to  satisfy  the 
demands  of  the  impatient  crowd  for  tickets. 

Now  the  manager's  vice,  on  this  occasion,  though  one 
of  the  best  fellows  and  most  sensible  gentlemen  in  our 
city,  is  rather  slow  to  comprehend  matters  of  detail,  espe- 
cially when  hurried.  On  this  occasion,  therefore,  he  did 
not  understand  very  clearly  the  instructions  of  the  mana- 
ger, as  to  the  colours  of  the  tickets,  and  the  department 
of  the  theatre  which  they  represented.  Whilst  reflecting 
upon  the  subject,  and  speculating  upon  the  relation  which 
the  colours  of  the  tickets  might  have  to  those  whose 
locality  they  indicated,  the  crowd  grew  impatient,  and 
called  loudly  for  their  tickets.  With  desperate  nervous- 
ness, our  friend,  at  a  venture,  dealt  out  the  tickets  to  the 
applicants.  The  white  tickets  he  sold  to  the  nice  gentle- 
men in  white  kids  and  fancy  coats,  the  blue  tickets  he  sold 
out  to  some  upper-country  flatboatmen  who  were  pretty 
blue,  and  the  yellow  ones  he  dealt  to  the  darkies.  Thus 
the  crowd  was  soon  served.  Our  friend  having  thus  satis- 
factorily performed  his  vicarious  duties,  had  taken  his  seat 
and  was  smoking  a  pleasant  Cubana,  smiling  at  his  own 
sagacity  in  the  matter  of  the  tickets,  when  suddenly  his 
attention  was  arrested  by  a  loud  uproar  in  the  theatre.  He 
listened  attentively,  and  could  hear  distinctly  the  terrific 
cry,  "  Put  'em  out!"  "Get  out!"  and  similar  demon- 
strations of  public  dissatisfaction,  mingled  wTith  hisses, 
outcries,  cat-mewings,  and  similar  demonstrations. 

This  uproar  continued  for  some  time,  when  there  was  a 
slight  lull,  followed  by  the  sound  of  a  rushing  crowd 
through  the  doors,  and  the  tumbling  noise  of  a  crowd  of 
individuals  proceeding  with  more  than  usual  rapidity 
down  the  steps  from  the  parquette.  The  amateur  ticket- 
vender  peeped  out  of  his  little  box-hole,  and  there  to  his 
surprise  he  saw  a  number  of  his  coloured  friends,  to  whom 


106  THE  AMATEUR  TICKET-VEXDER 

he  had  distributed  yellow  tickets,  lying  sprawling  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps,  whilst  several  others  were  following 
them  in  rapid  succession,  under  the  influence  of  dorsal 
applications  of  the  pedal  extremities  of  several  irate  and 
vigorous  gentlemen  at  the  head  of  the  steps.  Catching 
the  eye  of  one  of  the  impertinent  Africans,  our  "ticket- 
vender  asked  him  what  was  the  matter? 

"  Oh,  you  know  well  enough,  massa ;  you  send  me 
'mong  white  folks,  and  dey  kick  dis  nigger  right  down 
stairs !  Oh,  massa !  dat  aint  right,  to  sarve  poor  niggah  so !" 

"  Bless  me!1'  exclaimed  our  friend,  "I  have  made 
some  mistake  here!" 

He  had  hardly  made  the  exclamation,  when  there  was 
another  commotion,  and  a  rush  below.  This  time  the 
crowd  was  composed  of  white  gentlemen,  of  the  very 
elite  and  fashion  of  our  city — gentlemen  in  fine  blue 
frocks  and  white  kids.  They,  too,  appeared  quite  indig- 
nant, and  the  ticket  vender  was  not  a  little  alarmed  to 
hear  from  the  crowd  such  expressions  as  these — "  The 
greatest  insult  ever  offered  to  a  gentleman  !"  «  We  shall 
hold  every  man  in  the  establishment  personally  responsi- 
ble !"  and  similar  indications  of  belligerency.  Presently 
the  crowd  had  gained  the  front  of  the  ticket-box,  when 
nearly  every  gentleman  present  begged  for  the  card  of  the 
"  d — d  impertinent  rascal  who  had  sent  them  up  into  that 
infernal  strong-smelling  gallery,  where  the  cursed  niggers 
sit  and  sweat !"  They  intended  to  resent  such  an  insult 
in  the  most  summary  manner.  In  the  meantime  they 
would  leave  the  theatre  in  disgust. 

"  Well,"  reflected  our  friend,  «  that's  pleasant ;  I 
shall  have  to  fight  all  these  fellows  to-morrow,  just  on  ac- 
count of  this  infernal  arrangement,  or  rather  derangement 
of  Tom  Placide,  by  which  he  makes  white  tickets  for 
niggers,  and  yellow  tickets  for  white  folks.     Well,  it  is 


AT  THE  VARIETIES.  107 

some  consolation  to  know  that  I  have  got  out  of  this  trou- 
ble now!" 

But  our  friend  too  was  fast ;  for,  to  his  terror,  there  was 
another  rush  to  the  ticket-box;  and  there,  horrible  to 
relate,  glared  upon  him  the  fierce  eyes  of  several  long- 
haired and  brown-faced  upper  countrymen.  He  cast  an 
inquiring  look  at  them,  when  he  was  informed  by  the 
largest  of  the  crowd  "  that  if  he  would  come  out  of  his 
cuddy  hole,  he  would  get  the  most  allfired  cowollaping 
he  ever  hearn  talk  of!" 

"  Why,  bless  me,  gentlemen,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  You  know  cussed  well,  you  weazel-faced  ninnyham- 
mer !  You  sent  us  decent  folks,  if  we  are  from  the  upper 
kentry,  and  some  of  us  members  of  the  church,  among  a 

parcel  of  old,  painted,  toothless ,  to  be  giggled  and 

laughed  at  by  a  parcel  of  your  town  monkeys !" 

Just  at  this  juncture  of  the  difficulty,  when  the  amateur 
ticket-vender  was  becoming  quite  nervous  for  his  body's 
safety,  he  was  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  Tom  Placide, 
in  the  shadow  of  whose  portly  body  he  skulked  quietly 
away,  declaring  that  in  future  his  devotion  to  the  drama 
and  the  fine  arts  might  impel  him  to  play  any  character 
but  that  of  "ticket-seller." 


THE  ffiLEGKAVE  IN  ST.  LOUIS. 

We  are  indebted  to  the  Reveille  for  the  side-splitting  sketch 
which  follows. 

f  \fc  men  from  the  interior,  apparently  marketers,  halted 
at  the  corner  of  our  alley  last  evening  and  listened  atten- 
tively +o  the  chinking  of  our  press. 

"What  on  earth  is  that  rattlir'  machine?"  inquired 
one  of  the  other. 

"  D'no,"  answered  the  questioned  party,  standing  ready 
at  the  same  time  to  beat  a  retreat  if  the  "  noisy  varmint" 
should  make  a  sudden  appearance.  "  D'no  what  in  thun- 
der it  is,  but  it  keeps  on  a  tremendous  racket — it  mout  be 
a  telegrqfl]  Ike  ?" 

"Good  as  wheat,  by  gravy! — 'tis  the  telegiaff,  sure 
enufT,  Sam,"  replied  Ike.  "  I  heerd  tha  wur  gettin'  it 
fixed  up  yur  in  St.  Louis.  'Spose'n  we  take  a  squint  at 
the  flashin'  thing  while  its  a  goin' !" 

They  cautiously  approached  the  window  of  the  press- 
room and  peeped  in. 

They  first  eyed  the  machine,  then  the  negro  at  the 
wheel,  then  the  pressman,  and  finally,  stooped  down  to 
look  beneath  for  the  lightning. 

"That's  it,  shure  enufT,"  says  Ike,  "  and  that  feller  is 
*aken'  down  them  sheets  what  thur  sayin'  in  New  York ! 
Well,  if  these  times  don't  beat  hoe'n'  taters,  then  I'm  a 
sinner!  What  on  airth's  goin'  to  cum  of  these  poor  prin- 
ter fellers,  when  tha  gits  this  telegraflf  goin'  general  ?  I'll 
swar,  ef  tha  don't  drive  'em  all  to  plantin'  corn !" 

(108) 


THE  TELEGRAPH  IN  ST.  LOUIS.        109 

"  But  vvhar  is  the  lightnin\  Ike  r"  inquired  Sam,  "  I 
don't  see  nuthin'  but  black  streeks  'bout  that  thing !" 

"  I  reckon  it's  wroped  up  in  that  wheel  thar  where 
the  feller's  puttin'  on  sheets — you  see  how  it  keeps  them 
other  things  in  continual  jerk,  just  as  it  might  be  expected 
that  thunder  and  lightnin'  would  do." 

"  What  in  the  yearth  are  tha  doin'  with  that  nigger, 
then?  What's  he  holdin'  on  to  one  of  the  wheels  for?" 
inquired  Sam. 

"  Now  you  stump  me,"  says  Ike,  "for  cuss  me,  ef  I 
can  see  what  he  is  doin'  thar,  'cept  holdin'  the  thing  to 
keep  it  from  taken'  a  general  rip." 

"  I  never  know'd,"  says  Sam,  "that  he  could  hold  the 
fluid  that-away  afore  ;  and  now  I've  found  it  out,  I'll  just 
give  my  nigger  Jake  perfect  Israel  when  I  git  home,  for 
lettin'  the  lightnin'  kill  them  steers  of  mine  last  July. 
The  nigger  said  he  couldn't  help  it,  but  I  know'd  he 
could  if  he'd  a  minded  to.  Jest  see  that  vallyble  boy 
thar  how  he  holds  on  to  the  fluid?" 

"Stop!"  shouted  the  pressman  to  the  negro  at  the 
wheel. 

"  Lean,  Sam,"  cried  Ike,  "  she's  goin'  to  rip,  sartin, 
and  I'd  rather  hev  two  shakes  of  agir  than  one  of  lightnin', 
any  time." 

Satisfied  that  they  had  seen  the  telegraph  in  motion, 
Ike  and  Sam  leaned. 

10 


SMOKING  A  GRIZZLY. 

BY    JOHN    S.     ROBB,    ESQ. 

(«  Soliaire.") 

Mr.  Robb  is  a  native  of  Philadelphia,  though  he  has  resided  for 
some  years  past  in  St.  Louis,  Mo.  He  is  the  author  of  a  volume 
of  "  Streaks  of  Squatter  Life,"  which  was  published  a  few  years 
since  in  his  native  city.  Mr.  R.  is  connected  with  the  St.  Louis 
Reveille,  and  contributes  many  good  things  to  its  columns. 

"What,  you  hev  never  seen  a  live  Grizzly?" 
exclaimed  an  old  Oregon  gold-digger,  with  whom  we 
were  engaged  in  a  "  bar"  conversation  one  evening  on 
Jamestown  bar. 

c<  Never,"  said  I,  in  all  seriousness,  "it  has  never  been 
my  good  fortune  to  encounter  one  of  the  beautiful  var- 
ments." 

"  Well,  hoss,  when  you  do,  perhaps  it  won't  be  the 
pleasantest  minit  you've  ever  hed,  for  thar  aint  no  varmint 
in  these  hills,  nor  any  whar  else  I've  ben,  that  kin  kick 
wuss,  either  round  or  sideways,  than  a  full  grown 
Grizzly." 

"  But  you  can  easily  get  out  of  the  way  of  a  clumsy 
animal  like  that,"  said  I,  provoking  the  old  digger  into  a 
yarn  of  his  experience  in  regard  to  Grizzlys. 

"  Well,  when  you  kin  get  out  of  thur  way,  little  feller, 
I  gives  you  my  advice,  to  get  out  quicker  ;  for  tho'  they 
aint  built  raal  beautiful  for  runnin,  they  lope  awful  smart 
when  thur  arter  a  humin'  critter.  I  was  desperate  glad 
to  get  away  from  one  myself  once.  " 

(110) 


SMOKING    A    GRIZZLY.  Ill 

I  had  provoked  him  to  the  edge  of  a  bar  story,  and 
knowing  from  his  manner,  that  his  relation  of  such  an 
occurrence  as  getting  away  from  a  Grizzly  would  be 
interesting,  I  tempted  him  on. 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  fell  in  with  him  ?"  inquired  I. 

"I  didn't  say  I  fell  in  with  him  anywhar,"  answered 
he  ;  M  cuss  the  varmint,  he  fell  in  with  me,  and  Pd  a  lee- 
tle  ruther  hev  fell  in  with  the  Old  Nick  jest  at  that  minit. 
I  was  over  thar,  two  miles  'tother  side  of  the  high  ridge 
beyond  Sullivan's,  lookin'  arter  that  gray  mule  of  mine — 
and  talkin'  about  wicked  things,  jest  puts  me  thinkin' 
what  a  detarminedly  vicious  sarpint  that  gray  mule  was! 
Well,  I  was  huntin'  her,  and  arter  runnin'  over  the  hill, 
and  shootin'  down  half  a  dozen  gulches,  I  began  to  get 
out  of  wind  ;  and  set  down  to  bless  that  gray  critter  for 
the  many  tramps  she  had  given  me.  I'll  swar  no  lariat 
'ud  hold  her,  not  ef  it  was  made  of  bull-hide  an  inch  thick. 
I  hadn't  sot  more'n  a  minit,  when  I  heerd  a  snort,  and  a 
roar,  and  a  growl,  and  a  right  smart  sprinklin'  of  fast  tra- 
veling all  mixed  up  together.  Lookin'  up  a  perpendike- 
lar  hill,  right  behind  me,  thar  I  saw  comin'  my  gray 
mule,  puttin'  in  her  best  licks,  and  a  few  yards  behind 
her  was  a  grizzly,  not  much  bigger  than  a  yearling. 
Many  an  infernal  scrape  that  mule  has  taken  me  into 
afore,  but  this  was  rather  the  tightest  place  she  ever  did 
get  me  into.  I  hadn't  a  weepun  about  me,  'cept  one  of 
those  mean,  one-barreled  auction  pistols;  and  that  hadn't 
a  consarned  mite  of  a  load  in,  and  I  hadn't  nothing  to 
load  it  with,  and  no  time  to  put  it  in,  ef  I  had ;  and  ef  it 
had  been  loaded,  it  wouldn't  hev  been  worth  a  cuss ! 

You  had  better  believe  boys,  that  my  skin  got  moist 
suddint — thar  waren't  no  dry  diggins  under  my  red  shirt, 
long  afore  that  grizzly  got  down  the  hill.  The  infarnal 
mule  no  sooner  seed  me  than  she  jest  wheeled  round  and 


112  SMOKING    A    GRIZZLY. 

put  me  atween  her  and  the  bar,  and  stood  off  to  see  ef  I 
wouldn't  lick  him  about  as  easy  as  I  used  to  whale  her 
when  she  got  stubborn.  Old  grizzly  drawed  up  when  he 
seed  me,  and  'gin  to  roll  his  old  barrel  head  about,  and 
grunt,  as  ef  I  was  mor'n  he  bargained  for  ;  and  I'd  jest 
given  him  that  mule,  easy,  to  hev  got  off  square.  As  the 
fellers  say  at  monte,  he  was  a  lay  out  I  didn't  want  to 
bet  on. 

I  commenced  backin'  out,  and  wanted  to  make  it  a 
draw  game  ;  but  he  kept  shuffiin'  up  to  me,  and  any  feller 
who  had  been  close  to  his  head,  would  hev  giv  his  whole 
pile  just  to  get  a  chance  to  cut.  I  considered  my  effects 
—that  pan,  rocker  and  a  crow-bar — jest  as  good  as  min- 
istered upon  ;  and  almost  felt  the  coroner  sittin'  on  my 
body.  I  stuck  my  hands  into  my  pockets  to  see  if  there 
warn't  a  knife  about  me,  and  I  pulled  out  half  a  dozen  boxes 
of  Lucifer  Matches,  that  had  just  been  bought  that  after- 
noon. I  don't  know  what  put  it  in  my  head,  but  I  sot  a 
box  blaxin',  an'  held  it  out  towards  old  grizzly,  and  I 
reckin  you  havn't  often  seen  two  eyes  stick  out  wusser  than 
his  did  then.  He  drew  back  at  least  ten  yards,  and  settin' 
the  box  down  on  the  airth,  I  jest  moved  off  about  twenty 
yards  in  t'other  direction.  The  bar  crept  up  to  the  luci- 
fers  and  took  a  smell,  and  if  the  muscles  of  my  jaws 
hadn't  been  so  tight  with  fear,  I'd  hev  bursted  into  a 
reg'lar  snort  of  laughin',  at  seein'  how  he  turned  up  his 
nose  and  sniffled.  The  next  minit  he  retreated  at  least 
fifty  yards  ;  and  then  I  sot  another  box  of  the  lucifers, 
and — boys,  dar  you  b'lieve  it — he  gin  to  back  out!  As 
soon  as  I  felt  I  had  him  skeert,  I  didn't  keer  a  cuss  for  a 
whole  drove  of  grizzlys.  I  jerked  out  another  box  of 
lucifers,  teeched  it  off,  and  let  out  the  most  onairthly  yell 
that  ever  woke  those  diggins,  and  the  way  that  bar  broke 
into  a  canter  'ud  hev  distanced  any  quarter  nag  in  Chris- 


SMOKING    A    GRIZZLY.  113 

tenilom  !  He  jest  seemed  to  think  that  anythin'  that  could 
fire  up  as  easy,  and  smell  as  bad  as  me,  war  rather  a 
delicate  subject  to  kick  up  a  row  with.  As  he  was  gettin' 
over  the  hill,  I  fairly  squeeled  out  laughin',  and  I'll  swar 
ef  that  impudent  mule — which  was  standin'  behind  me — 
didn't  snicker  out  too !  I  looked  for  a  rock  to  hit  her — 
instead  of  ketchin'  her  to  ride  to  camp — and  the  ungrateful 
critter  sot  right  off  in  a  trot,  and  left  me  to  walk !  I  made 
short  time  atween  that  ravine  and  my  tent ;  for  I  was 
awful  feer'd  that  my  grizzly  was  waitin'  some  place  to 
take  a  second  look  at  me,  and  might  bring  a  few  older 
varmints  along  to  get  thur  opinion  what  kind  of  crittur 
I  wur. 

Ah,  boys!  (said  he,  in  conclusion)  Providence  has 
helped  me  out  of  many  a  scrape  ;  but  it  warn't  him  saved 
me  from  the  grizzly!  Ef  it  hadn't  ben  old  Satan,  or  some 
Dutchman,  invented  brimstone  and  lucifer  matches,  thar 
would  hev  been  an'  end  to  this  critter,  and  the  verdict 
would  hev  been — Died  of  a  Grizzly. 


10 


• 


WHERE  JOE  MERIWEATHER  WENT  TO. 

A  KENTUCKY  YARN. 

«  I  do  believe  that's  Bill  Me ri weather,"  said  the  old  lady 
hostess  of  the  <  Sign  of  the  Buck'  tavern,  as,  attracted  by 
the  noise  of  a  horse's  hoofs,  she  raised  her  eyes  from  her 
occupation  of  stringing  dried  slips  of  pumpkin,  and  des- 
cried, this  side  of  the  first  bend  in  the  road,  a  traveller 
riding  a  jaded  horse  towards  the  mansion.  "  I  do  believe 
that's  Bill  Meriweather.  It's  about  time  fur  him  to  be 
round  agin  a  buyin'  shoats.  But  whar's  Joe  ?  Phillisy 
Ann,"  continued  Mrs.  Harris,  raising  her  voice,  "  catch 
a  couple  of  young  chickens,  and  get  supper  ready  as  soon 
as  you  can,  you  dratted  lazy  wench  you,  for  here  comes 
Bill  Meriweather.  But  whar's  Joe  ?  How  do  you  do, 
Mr.  Meriweather  ?"  concluded  the  old  lady,  as  the  stranger 
arrived  in  front  of  the  porch. 

"  Lively,"  replied  that  individual,  as  he  proceeded  to 
dismount  and  tie  his  horse.  "  How  do  you  come  on  your- 
self, old  'oman  ?" 

"  Pretty  well,  Bill ;  how's  craps  down  in  your  parts  ?" 
"Bad,  uncommon  bad,"  replied  Bill.  "There's  a 
new  varmint  come  around  in  our  county,  that's  got  a 
mortal  likin  for  the  tobaker  crap.  They  looks  a  good 
deal  like  a  fox,  but  are  as  big  as  a  three  year  old  nigger, 
and  can  climb  a  tree  like  a  squirrel,  and  they  steals  a 
dozen  or  so  <  hands'  every  night,  and  next  mornin'  ef 
you  notice,  you'll  see  all  the  tops  of.  the  pinoaks  around 
the  plantation  kivered  wTith  them  a-dryin',  and  the  infernal 

(114) 


WHERE   JOE   MERIWEATHER   WENT   TO.  115 

Chawbacks — that's  what  we  call  'em — a  settin'  up  in  a 
crotch,  a  chawin'  what  is  cured,  and  squirtin'  ambeer  all 
over  the  country.     Got  any  on  em'  up  here  yet  ?" 

"  The  goodness,  Lord  ha'  mercy,  no,  Bill !  But  whar's 
Joe  ?" 

Up  to  this  time  Mr.  Meriweather  had  been  as  pleasant 
and  jovial  a  looking  Green  River  man,  as  you  might  find  in 
a  week's  ride  along  the  southern  border  of  Kentucky,  and 
had  finished  his  lecture  on  the  natural  history  of  the  Chaw- 
back,  and  the  unsaddling  of  his  horse  at  the  same  time  ; 
but  no  sooner  had  the  old  lady  asked  the  question, 
"  Whar's  Joe  ?"  than  he  instantaneously  dropped  on  the 
bench  alongside  the  questioner,  gave  her  an  imploring 
look  of  pity  and  despair,  let  his  head  fall  into  his  open 
palms,  and  bending  down  both  until  they  nearly  touched 
his  knees,  he  uttered  such  a  sigh  as  might  a  Louisville 
and  New  Orleans  eight-boiler  steam-packet  in  the  last 
stage  of  collapsed  flues. 

"  Goodness  gracious,  Bill!  what's  the  matter  ?"  cried 
the  old  lady,  letting  her  stringing  apparatus  fall.  "  Hev 
you  got  the  cramps  ?  Phillisy  Ann,  bring  that  bottle  here 
out'n  the  cupboard,  quick,  and  the  pepper-pods." 

"  Ah-h !"  sighed  the  sufferer,  not  changing  his  posi- 
tion, but  mournfully  shaking  his  head,  "  I  ain't  got  no 
cramps,  ah-h  !" 

However,  Phillisy  Ann  arriving  in  "  no  time"  with  the 
nrticle  of  household  furniture  called  for,  that  gentleman, 
utterly  disregarding  the  pepper  pods,  proceeded  to  pour 
into  a  tumbler,  preparatory  to  drinking,  a  sufficient  quantity 
of  amber-coloured  fluid  to  utterly  exterminate  any  cramps 
that  might,  by  any  possibility,  be  secretly  lingering  in  his 
system,  or  fortify  and  barricade  himself  against  any  known 
number  that  might  attack  him  in  the  distant  future  ;  and 
having  finished,  immediately  assumed  his  former  position, 


116  WHERE  JOE    MERIWEATHER   WENT   lv 

and  went  into   most  surprisingly  exact  imitations  of  a 
wheezy  locomotive  on  a  foggy  morning. 

"  Merciful  powers !  what  can  the  matter  be  ?"  exclaimed 
the  widow,  now  thoroughly  excited,  as  Meriweather  ap- 
peared to  be  getting  no  better  fast,  but  was  rocking  him- 
self up  and  down  "  like  a  man  who  is  sawing  marble," 
groaning  and  muttering  inarticulate  sounds,  as  if  in  the 
last  extremity  of  bodily  anguish.  But  Mr.  Meriweather 
was  for  some  time  unable  to  make  any  reply  that  could 
be  understood,  until  at  length,  at  the  conclusion  of  a 
very  fierce  paroxysm,  she  could  catch  the  words,  "  Poor 
Joe  !" 

"Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  Joe?"  asked  the 
old  lady. 

If  it  were  possible  for  any  one  man  to  feel  and  suffer  as 
far  as  appearance  went,  all  the  agony  and  misery  that  a 
half  dozen  of  the  most  miserable  and  unfortunate  of  the 
human  race  ever  have  felt  and  suffered,  and  yet  live,  Mr. 
Meriweather  certainly  was  that  individual,  for  he  imme- 
diately went  off  into  such  a  state  of  sighs,  groans,  and 
lamentations,  of  "Poor  Joe  !"  "  Poor  brother  Joe!"  that 
the  widow,  aroused  to  the  highest  state  of  sympathy  and 
pity,  could  do  nothing  but  wipe  her  eyes  with  her  apron, 
and  repeat  the  question — 

"  Where  is  Joe,  Mr.  Meriweather  ?   is  he  sick  ?" 

"  Oh-h,  no  !"  groaned  the  mourning  brother. 

"  Is  he  dead,  then  ?  Poor  Joe  !"  faintly  inquired  the 
old  lady. 

«  The  Lord  ha'  mercy  on  our  sinful  souls !  then  whar 
is  he  ?"  cried  the  widow,  breaking  out  afresh,  "  is  he 
away  to  Orleans — or  gone  to  Californy  ?  Yes,  that's  it ! 
an'  the  poor  boy'll  be  eaten  up  by  them  <  diggers'  that 
they  say  goes  rootin'  round  that  outlandish  country,  like 
a  set  of  mean  stinkin'  ground  hogs.     Poor  Joe !  he  was 


WHERE   JOE   MERIWEATHER   WENT  TO.  117 

a  fine  little  fellow,  an't  was  only  the  other  day  last  year, 
when  you  was  on  your  rounds,  that  he  eat  all  my  little 
be " 

"  No,  he  ain't  gone  to  Californy  as  I  know,"  interrupted 
his  brother. 

"  Then,  for  mercy's  sake,  do  tell  a  body  what's  become 
on  him  !"  rather  tartly  inquired  the  old  lady. 

"  Why,  you  see,  Mrs.  Harris,"  replied  Mr.  Meriweather, 
still  keeping  the  same  position,  and  interrupting  the  nar- 
rative with  sundry  bursts  of  grief, — which  we'll  leave  out 
— "  you  see,  Mrs.  Harris,  Joe  and  I  went  up  airly  in  the 
spring  to  get  a  boat  load  of  rock  from  Boone  County,  to 
put  up  the  foundation  of  the  new  house  we're  building, 
fur  there  ain't  no  rock  down  in  them  rich  sily  bottoms  in 
our  parts.  Well,  we  got  along  pretty  considerable,  fur  we 
had  five  kegs  ov  blast  along,  and  that  with  the  hire  of 
some  niggers,  we  managed  to  get  our  boat  loaded,  and 
started  fur  home  in  about  three  weeks.  You  never  did 
see  anything  rain  like  it  did  the  fust  day  when  we  was  a 
floatin'  down,  but  we  worked  like  a  cornfield  nigger  ov  a 
Christmas  week,  and  pretty  near  sundown  we'd  made  a 
matter  of  nigh  twenty  mile  afore  we  were  ashore  and  tied 
up.  Well,  as  we  didn't  have  any  shelter  on  the  flat,  we 
raised  a  rousin'  big  fire  on  the  bank,  close  to  whar  she  was 
tied  up,  and  cooked  some  grub,  and  I'd  eaten  a  matter  of 
two  pounds  of  side,  and  half  ov  a  possum,  and  was  a  sittin' 
on  a  log,  smokin'  a  Kaintuck  regaly,  and  a  talkin'  to 
brother  Joe,  who  was  a  standin'  chock  up  agin  the  fire 
with  his  back  to  it.  You  recollex,  Mrs.  Harris,  brother 
Joe,  who  allers  was  a  dressy  sort  of  a  chap,  fond  of  the 
brass  buttons  he  had  on  his  coat,  and  the  flairin'est  kind 
ov  red  neckerchers ;  and  this  time  he  had  on  a  pair  of 
buckskin  breeches  with  straps  under  his  boots.  Well, 
when  I  was  a  talkin'  to  him  ov  the  prospect  for  the  next 
day,  all  of  a  sudden  I  thought  the  little  feller  was  a  growin' 


118  WHERE  JOE   MERIWEATHER   WENT  TO. 

uncommon  tall  ;  till  I  diskivered  that  the  buckskin 
breeches,  that  were  as  wet  as  a  young  rooster  in  a  spring 
rain,  wur  beginnin  to  smoke  an'  draw  up  kinder,  and  wur 
a  liftin'  brother  Joe  off  the  ground  !" 

"Brother  Joe,"  sez  I,  "you're  a  going  up." 

"  Brother,"  sez  he,  "I  ain't  a  doing  anything  else !" 

And  he  scrunched  down  mighty  hard,  but  it  warnt  ov 
no  use,  for  afore  long  he  wur  a  matter  of  some  fifteen 
feet  up  in  the  air  !" 

"  Merciful  powers!"  interrupted  the  widow. 

"  Brother  Joe  !"  sez  I. 

"  I'm  here,"  sez  he. 

"  Catch  hold  ov  the  top  ov  that  black  jack,"  sez  I. 

"Talk!"  sez  brother  Joe,  and  he  sorter  leaned  over 
and  grabbed  the  saplin  like  as  maybe  you've  seen  a 
squirrel  haul  in  an  elm  switch  ov  a  June  mornin'.  But  it 
warn't  ov  no  use,  fur,  old  'oman,  ef  you'll  believe  me,  it 
gradually  began  to  giv'  way  at  the  roots,  and  afore  he'd 
got  five  foot  higher,  it  just  split  out'n  the  ground,  as  easy 
as  you'd  pull  up  a  spring  raddish. 

"  Brother  Joe  !"  sez  I. 

"I'm  list'nin,"  sez  he. 

"  Cut  your  straps!"  sez  I,  fur  I  seed  it  was  his  last 
chance. 

"  Talk  !"  sez  brother  Joe,  tho'  he  looked  sort  a  reproach- 
ful at  me,  for  broachin'  such  a  subject,  but  arter  appa- 
rently considering  awhile,  he  outs  with  his  jack-knife,  and 
leanin'  over  sideways,  made  a  rip  at  the  sole  of  his  left 
boot.  There  was  a  considerable  degree  of  cracklin  fur  a 
second  or  two,  then  a  crash  sorter  like  as  if  a  wagon-load 
ov  cord  wood  had  bruk  down,  and  the  fust  thing  I  knowed, 
the  t'other  leg  shot  up  like,  started  him,  and  the  last  thing 
I  seed  ov  brother  Joe,  he  was  wldrlbi'  round  like  a  four- 
spoiled  wheel  with  the  rim  off,  aivay  down  dost  toward  sun- 
down /" 


AN  ARKANSAS  ORIGINAL. 

In  a  backwoods  settlement,  in  Arkansas,  lived  two 
brothers  whom  we  shall  distinguish  as  Jim  and  Ned. 
Jim  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  had  been  present 
at  one  or  two  militia  trainings  and  a  cock-fight,  and  had 
actually  seen  a  live  steamboat.  He  was  looked  upon, 
consequently,  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood  as  consi- 
derable of  a  traveller.  Ned  was  principally  remarkable 
for  his  intense  admiration  for,  and  implicit  obedience  of 
his  learned  brother's  opinions  and  advice.  Now  Ned  had 
usually  stayed  at  home  "attending  to  things,"  while  Jim 
performed  the  part  of  the  prodigious  son  abroad.  But  one 
time  when  Jim  was  about  starting,  he  determined  to  avail 
himself  of  his  brother's  experience  and  knowledge  of  the 
world,  to  see  a  little  life  himself. 

Bright  and  early  one  fine  fall  morning,  clad  in  the  bright- 
green  blanket-coat,  and  broad-brimmed  hat,  which  form 
the  principal  features  in  the  costume  of  the  elegants  of 
their  section,  and  mounted  on  two  raw-boned  steeds,  they 
started  for  the  Mississippi,  and  reached  a  small  town  on 
its  banks  on  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day.  Just  as 
they  arrived  the  "  Gen.  Jackson"  had  hauled  up  to  the 
miniature  levee,  and  lay  puffing,  and  paddling,  and  jerk- 
ing cotton  bales  and  negroes  over  her  bow,  and  looking 
for  all  the  world  like  an  infernal  big  frame  house  with  the 
kitchen  wall  knocked  out.  Now  was  the  time  for  Jim  to 
display  his  knowledge.  So  dismounting  from  his  horse  and 
giving  Ned  the  reins  to  hold,  and  having  cautioned  him 

(119) 


120  AN   ARKANSAS   ORIGINAL. 

to  wait  until  he  had  assured  himself  of  the  absence  of  all 
danger,  he  sauntered  leisurely  down  towards  the  boat. 
It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  the  air  of  knowingness  and 
determination  not  to  be  taken  in  with  which  he  nodded 
to  every  one  he  met,  at  the  same  time  winking  with  his 
right  eye,  and  jerking  the  raised  forefinger  of  his  right 
hand,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  It's  all  very  well,  stranger,  but 
they  can't  take  me  in;  I  know  all  about  steamboats,  I 
should  think !"  So  he  went  on  nodding  and  wdnking, 
until  finally,  not  without  great  inward  trepidation,  he 
placed  his  foot  on  the  boiler  deck.  Hardly  had  he  done 
so,  when  splash  went  the  wheels,  the  escape  pipes  sounded 
their  tremendous  phlooow,  and  he  was  enveloped  in  a 
cloud  of  steam.  Jim  could  not  stand  this,  but  plunging 
into  the  stream,  soon  stood  red  and  dripping  by  his 
bewildered  brother.  "Ned,"  says  he,  "she's  blowed, 
and  I'm  the  only  one  left  alive  to  tell  the  tale !  let's  go 
home." 

"  No,  Jim,"  says  Ned,  "  she  hasn't  blowed  !" 
"  Well,  if  she  hasn't  blowed,  she  will  blow — let's  go 
home !"  and   springing  on   his  frightened  nag   he  dis- 
appeared, followed  by  his  brother,  from  the  eyes  of  the 
amused  and  astonished  spectators. 

Some  weeks  after  their  return,  and  after  their  settlement 
had  somewhat  got  over  the  wonderful  story  Jim  had 
regaled  them  with,  a  new  hero  entered  upon  the  scene — 
one  Mr.  Thompson,  who  had  been  chopping  in  a  wood- 
yard  on  the  Mississippi  for  six  months,  and  whose  adven- 
tures created  a  good  deal  of  excitement  among  his  won- 
dering fellow-citizens.  Every  one  crow7ded  down  to  hear 
his  stories,  and  among  the  rest  came  our  two  brothers. 
Ned  sat  with  open  ears  and  eyes,  wondering  at  all  he 
heard,  but  Jim  listened  with  a  cynical  smile  on  his  face, 
like  a  man  who  was  not  to  be  humbugged — and  occasion- 


AN   ARKANSAS   ORIGINAL.  121 

ally  chimed  in  with  a  "  very  true,  Mr.  Thompson — you 
needn't  tell  us  that — we've  seen  all  that  before," — and 
then  he  would  wink  and  shake  his  finger  at  Ned.  At 
length  Mr.  T.  incidentally  mentioned  the  bursting  of  a 
steamboat  at  his  yard.  This  arrested  Jim's  attention, 
"  Stop,  Mr.  Thompson,"  said  he,  winking  at  Ned,  "had 
she  a  d — d  tall  thing  like  a  bee-martin  pole  stuck  up 
forard  ?" 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Mr.  Thompson. 

Jim  again  winked  at  Ned.  "  And  had  she  two  great 
black  things,  like  jackasses' ears  in  her  middle?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  .Thompson. 

Again  Jim  winked  his  expressive  wink  and  nod  at  his 
brother.  "  And  had  she  two  blasted  big  things  splashing 
and  grappling  in  the  water  alongside  ?" 

Mr.  Thompson  assented — and  Jim  repeated  his  wink. 
"And  was  there  a  small  boat  pulling  along  behind,  and 
trying  to  come  up  all  she  knew  how?" 

«  Yes,"  said  Mr.  T. 

"  Ned,"  said  Jim,  solemnly,  and  concentrating  all  his 
powers  in  one  determined  wink — "  I  knowed  it  was  hery 
didn't  I  tell  you  she'd  blow  ?" 


11 


A  FEARFUL  TALE  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

BY   FALCONBRIDGE. 

In  the  year  1838,1  went  down  to  New  Orleans  as  second 
mate  and  assistant  cook  of  a  flat-boat,  from  Zanesville, 
Ohio.  Many  of  our  readers  are  well  aware  of  the  ardu- 
ous and  dangerous  situation  I  thus  occupied ;  and  to 
those,  I  need  not  detail  the  preliminary  circumstance  of 
getting  under  way,  or  heaving  to,  day  after  day,  and  night 
after  night — the  desperate  leaps  I  made  in  jumping  ashore 
with  « the  rope" — the  tumbles  I  made  in  the  mud — and 
the  duckings  I  got  in  the  water,  which  was  just  then 
— March — considerably  colder  than  that  used  in  "  hot 
punches,"  generally  speaking. 

It  was  a  rough,  drizzly  night,  and  the  double-dyed  hues 
of  the  "  silent  watches"  hung  around  « our  devoted 
barque,"  which,  in  consequence  of  the  Stygian  darkness 
and  inclemency  of  the  night,  we  had  "tied  up"  to  the 
right  hand  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  about  ten  miles  below 
u  Lost  Prairie." 

If  my  memory  serves  me  correctly,  it  was  thar ;  and 
about  the  hour  of  two  o'clock,  a.  m.,  I  was  called  from 
my  state-room  (two  old  quilts  upon  some  barrels  of  flour 
— part  of  our  freight)  to  go  on  deck  and  stand  my  watch, 
until  day  broke.  A  watch,  of  course,  is  very  essential, 
and  is  strictly  kept  on  boats  tieing  up  along  the  planta- 
tions, as  the  coloured  population  along  the  banks  have  a 

(122) 


A   FEARFUL   TALE    OF   THE   MISSISSIPPI.  123 

great  penchant  for  robbing  and  plundering  flat-boats 
whenever  a  favourable  opportunity  otters.  Nor  are  the 
niggers  the  only  professors  of  the  business;  for  cut-throats 
and  highwaymen  of  lighter  complexions  than  charcoal, 
have  frequently  made  descents  upon  flat-boats,  taken  the 
freights,  and  in  hundreds  of  cases  murdered  the  unguarded 
crew. 

We  had  "tied  up,"  in  a  very  suspicious  place,  close  in 
under  some  tall  cotton  woods,  and  my  <<  shipmate"'  that 
had  last  been  "  on  watch"  remarked  to  me  that  he  believed 

"  some  d cuss  was  prowling  around  the  cotton  woods, 

waiting  a  favourable  chance  to  crawl  aboard  in  the  bow, 
and  levy  on  a  barrel  of  flour  or  a  few  hams."  The  "bow" 
of  a  flat-boat  is  generally  open  ;  although  the  roof — excuse 
me — the  deck,  projects  over  the  open  space  in  the  bow, 
thus  sheltering  what  may  stand  or  be  placed  beneath  ; — 
and  under  this  deck,  seated  on  a  barrel,  I  took  my  watch, 
with  a  small  pistol  in  my  trowsers'  pocket,  and  a  pretty 
smart  chance  of  a  stick  at  my  fingers'  ends. 

Having  whistled  and  hummed  most  of  the  popular  airs 
of  the  day  to  keep  myself  awake,  I  began  to  feel  very 
drowsy.  All  of  a  sudden  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  some- 
thing moving  about  and  dodging  around  the  cotton  woods. 
Presently  I  espied  another.  I  kept  my  eyes  sharp  about 
me,  while  a  tingling  cold  feeling  began  to  seize  upon  me, 
and  a  strong  inclination  to  sing  out  for  «  help  !"  "  fire  !" 
and  blue  blazes !  But,  thinks  I,  I'll  hold  on  a  spell,  and 
see  if  they  make  any  attempt  to  come  aboard,  and  if  they 
do,  I'll  pull  trigger  with  my  pistol  and  shoot  one  of  them, 
and  that  will  arouse  my  fellow  seamen  in  the  cabin. 
Again  I  saw  them — one  came  down  very  close  to  the 
boat,  which  lay  rather  too  far  from  the  bank  to  be  stepped 
on  board  of;  but,  to  my  surprise,  one  of  the  invaders 
approached  with  something  in  his  hands  that  looked  like 


124  A.  FEARFUL   TALE    OF   THE   MISSISSIPPI. 

a  rail  or  board,  which  was  evidently  intended  to  assist  in 
getting  into  the  bow  of  the  boat,  or  knock  out  my  brains 
with  if  I  stirred  !  I  felt  transfixed  to  the  barrel-head,  and 
my  fist  froze  fast  to  my  trowsers'  pocket  upon  my  brass- 
barrelled  pistol ;  had  the  power  to  do  so  remained  in  my 
limbs,  I  should  unquestionably  have  scrambled  on  deck 
and  broke  for  the  cabin. 

I  could  just  make  out  the  dusky  figure  with  the  rail 
standing  close  to  the  boat ;  but  it  was  evidently  impos- 
sible for  him  to  see  me  in  the  double  darkness  of  my  situ- 
ation. 

"  Hallo  !  de  bote  ?"  said  the  fellow,  in  a  quite  low  call, 
and  by  his  accent  I  of  course  discovered  he  was  a  negro. 

u  Hallo  !  de  bote  ?"  he  again  called  in  a  low,  hoarse 
whisper. 

The  negroes  are  in  the  habit  of  thus  calling  out,  and 
if  they  are  answered  by  anybody  they  make  some  inquiries 
about  the  price  of  bacon  or  whiskey,  and  finally  sneak 
off;  but  if  no  one  answers,  they  naturally  conclude  all 
hands  are  asleep,  and  there  is  an  opening  for  plunder. 

"  Hallo  !  de  bote  ?"  he  now  whispered,  quite  close  to 
the  bow. 

He  then  disappeared,  and  in  an  instant  returned  with 
two  others  ;  the  plank  or  rail  was  carefully  laid  on  to  the 
bow,  and  to  my  horror  one  of  the  villains  began  to  come 
aboard  !  I  was  speechless  and  glued  fast  to  the  barrel- 
head with  fear  ;  but  what  was  my  utter  horror  and  con- 
sternation to  see,  right  before  me,  the  hand  of  a  white 
man,  armed  with  a  heavy  horse  pistol !  It  was  evident 
now  that  robbery  and  murder  was  about  to  take  place ! 
Now  was  the  time,  or  never,  for  me  to  make  a  desperate 
movement.  It  was  plain  I  should  be  discovered  if  I 
kept  still — should  have  my  throat  cut,  and  be  quietly 
thrown  into  the  swift,  deep  stream.     My  mind  was  made 


A   FEARFUL   TALE    OF   THE   MISSISSIPPI.  125 

up  in  a  moment,  and  my  self-possession  returned  as  sud- 
denly. Slowly  drawing  my  pistol,  just  as  the  fellow  put 
his  head  fairly  under  the  deck  and  within  two  feet  of  my 
own,  I  pulled  trigger! 

A  heavy  fall  of  a  man's  body  upon  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  a  terrific  yell  of  anguish  or  horror,  that  aroused 
the  crew,  who  came  running  forward  in  confusion  and 
fright,  announced  the  dreadful  fact,  that  I  had  fallen  from 
the  barrel  in  my  sleep,  firing  off  my  pistol  by  the  concus- 
sion in  my  pocket,  setting  my  trowsers  on  fire,  and  raising 
a  lump  on  my  forehead  against  the  bottom  of  the  boat  of 
about  the  size  of  a  goose  egg !  In  fact,  I  was  just  about 
Jailed  dead  for  a  few  minutes,  and  it  required  considerable 
vinegar  and  wMskey  to  resuscitate  me.  The  Lord  only 
knows  where  the  ball  in  the  pistol  went  to,  but,  with  the 
exception  of  tearing  the  leg  out  of  my  old  trowsers,  and 
setting  them  on  fire,  I  felt  no  serious  effects  from  the 
malicious  little  projectile.  I  swore,  of  course,  that  I  had 
been  assailed — shot,  and  knocked  down  by  a  score  of 
ruffians  and  cut-throats,  and  from  the  appearance  of  mat- 
ters, the  supposition  was  feasible  enough. 

Daylight  appeared — we  "cut  loose,"  and  left  the  scene 
of  my  fearful  adventure. 
11* 


A  FRIGHTFUL  ADVENTURE  IN  MISSISSIPPI. 

My  first  and  last  day  on  Dismal  Lake. 

BY    "  THE    TURKEY    RUNNER," 

Author  of  u  Chunkey's  Fight  with  the  Panther,"  "  Falling  off  a  Log 
in  a  game  of  Seven-Up,"  and  other  sketches. 

During  the  last  summer  I  accepted  an  oft-repeated 
invitation  of  an  old  friend,  and  accompanied  him  to  his 
plantation,  «  Chieorea,"  where  we  spent  a  week  very 
pleasantly,  notwithstanding  the  heat,  in  hunting  and  fish- 
ing. This  place  is  situated  on  the  celebrated  Deer  Creek, 
and  extremely  isolated,  being  the  first  above  its  confluence 
with  the  Yazoo  River,  and  by  the  sinuous  course  of  the 
creek,  sixt}-  miles  below  the  next  plantation.  The  sur- 
rounding forests  are  celebrated  for  game.  Bear  and  pan- 
ther, and  especially  the  latter,  are,  or  have  been,  more 
numerous  here  than  .in  the  vicinity  of  any  other  place 
known  in  this  singular  and  wild  region  of  country.  I  had 
long  promised  myself  the  pleasure  of  following  a  good 
"team"  of  dogs  through  these  unexplored  wilds,  and  of 
slaying  at  least  one  bear  and  panther  before  I  left.  You 
can  therefore  imagine  the  pleasure  I  experienced,  when, 
after  repeated  disappointments,  I  found  myself  at  the  close 
of  a  day's  hard  ride  entering  the  «  quarter''  yard  at  Chi- 
eorea, and  in  doing  so,  rousing  from  their  evening  slum- 
bers a  famous  pack,  that  had  assisted  in  hurrying  the 
spirit  of  many  a  gallant  old  he  to  "  kingdom  come." 

I  have  had  it  in  anticipation  frequently  since  to  write 
an  account    of  the    week's   sport,  but   I  have   deferred 

(126) 


A   FRIGHTFUL   ADVENTURE   IN    MISSISSIPPI.       127 

it  so  often  and  long  that  I  am  apprehensive  I  have  for- 
gotten some  of  the  most  exciting  scenes.  One  inci- 
dent, however,  was  so  ludicrous  that  I  will  give  it,  and  if 
it  is  deficient  in  soul-stirring  interest,  it  may  serve  as  a 
warning  to  some  of  my  readers. 

Our  success  had  been  neither  good  nor  indifferent.  We 
had  hunted  four  days,  and  had  killed  a  bear,  several  deer, 
turkey,  and  wild  fowl ;  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  found 
hunters  and  dogs  worn  out  with  constant  labour,  and  de- 
bilitated by  the  extreme  heat  of  the  weather,  and  that 
evening,  wThile  sipping  our  coffee,  discussing  and  laugh- 
ing o'er  the  mishaps  of  the  day,  it  was  concluded  to  spend 
the  morrow  with  the  rod  at  a  celebrated  lake  about  three 
miles  distant.  To  this  arrangement  I  yielded  a  reluctant 
consent,  not  only  because  I  was  very  much  fatigued,  but 
fishing  is  a  description  of  sport  that  never  had  any  charms 
for  me.  I  found  it  impossible,  however,  to  decline  the 
polite  solicitations  of  those  who  had  laboured  so  hard  at 
my  line,  and  the  next  morning  at  daylight  all  hands,  pro- 
perly equipped,  were  in  motion  for  the  lake,  where  our 
sport— if  such  it  must  be  called — was  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful and  exciting  character ;  at  least,  so  I  found  it, 
and  the  balance  of  the  company  were  too  well  bred  to 
complain  of  their  luck  because  mine  for  once  had  been 
more  marked  than  theirs. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  this  singular  sheet  of  water. 
I  have  visited  many  of  the  large  lakes  lying  between  the 
Sunflower  and  Deer  Creeks,  but  none  of  them  will  com- 
pare with  this  in  wild  and  dreary  scenery.  It  is  from  one 
to  three  miles  wide,  and  is  formed  by  the  overflow ;  its 
banks  are  flat  and  muddy,  and  covered  with  decaying 
trees,  limbs,  and  the  water  fringed  by  coarse  grass  and 
weeds.  Huge  trees  grow  upon  its  banks,  invariably  lean- 
ing over  the  lake,  and  from  their  branches  grow  in  profu- 


128       A  FRIGHTFUL  ADVENTURE  IN   MISSISSIPPI. 

sion  the  Spanish  long  moss,  drooping  to  the  surface  of  the 
water.  Many  of  these  trees,  after  attaining  a  certain  size 
— owing  to  the  weight  of  the  moss,  or  the  light  and  satu- 
rated soil  in  which  they  grow — fall  into  the  lake,  and  as 
they  decay,  grass  and  weeds  grow  upon  them.  Their 
mass  of  roots,  woven  together  and  cleansed  of  soil  by  the 
rains,  afford  a  secure  retreat  for  reptiles  and  insects, 
myriads  of  which  breed  here.  The  bark  of  the  trees,  the 
moss,  vines,  old  logs,  and  decaying  leaves  are  all  black- 
ened by  the  overflow  as  far  up  as  the  water  rises,  some 
thirty  or  forty  feet.  Back  from  and  parallel  with  the  banks 
of  the  lake,  there  are  ridges  or  drifts  of  sand  ;  between 
these  grow  dense  thickets  of  willow,  all  of  the  same  sombre 
colour,  and  the  lower  limbs  decaying,  whilst  the  surface 
of  the  earth  is  covered  by  the  falling  branches,  that  crack 
and  rattle  under  your  feet.  The  whole  scene  is  dreary, 
desolate,  and  offensive — the  very  atmosphere,  loaded  with 
unpleasant  odours,  falls  with  a  chilling  influence  on  the 
spirits.  There  are  found  here  no  gay-plumaged  birds  war- 
bling among  the  trees — always  a  bright  feature  in  South- 
ern forests — no  noisy  kingfisher,  dashing  over  the  water. 
The  only  representatives  of  the  feathered  tribe  were,  an 
eagle,  dreaming  on  a  dead  branch  projecting  from  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  the  foul  birds  that  feed  upon  the 
noisome  shore. 

After  carefully  depositing  our  rifles  in  the  boat,  we 
embarked,  and  were  rowed  out  and  down  the  lake  to  a 
famous  "  stand" — a  raft,  formed  of  a  mass  of  logs  that 
had  drifted  against  the  roots  of  a  sunken  tree  ;  here  I  was 
deposited,  whilst  the  balance  of  the  company  continued 
on  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  below,  to  another  and 
similar  place.  The  water  out  here  was  of  a  different 
colour,  and  looked  less  offensive  than  near  the  shore. 
Very  unexpectedly  I  soon  found  myself  deeply  interested, 


A   FRIGHTFUL   ADVENTURE   IN    MISSISSIPPI.       129 

— the  trout  and  white  perch  bit  beautifully,  and  kept  me 
industriously  employed  in  pulling  them  out. 

I  had  been  absorbed  by  the  excitement  over  an  hour, 
by  which  time  the  sun  had  become  oppressively  warm, 
and  satisfied  with  my  success  I  wound  up  my  line,  and 
looked  for  my  companions.  They,  however,  had  left  the 
first  raft,  and  proceeded  further  down  the  lake,  where  I 
could  see  them  intent  upon  their  sport,  and,  from  appear- 
ances, profitably  employed. 

Whilst  watching  my  companions  and  making  signals 
for  their  return,  I  saw  an  immense  alligator  "  locomoting'1'' 
across  the  water  slightly  in  direction  of  my  "  location."  I 
had  neglected  to  take  my  rifle  out  of  the  boat,  and  I  re- 
gretted it  very  much,  as  he  would  probably  approach  near 
enough  to  give  me  a  shot,  and  I  had  not  killed  an  alliga- 
tor. .Whilst  watching  his  motions  I  was  nearly  thrown  into 
the  lake  by  the  plunge  of  a  monster  alligator  gar,  who 
was  near  enough  to  dash  the  water  over  the  log  on  which 
I  was  standing.  These  gar  attain  an  immense  size  in  the 
lakes — from  seven  to  ten  feet  long,  and  strong  and  bold 
as  a  shark.  This  little  incident  made  me  nervous,  and  the 
more  anxious  to  get  to  the  shore ;  I  therefore  continued 
my  signals,  and  whilst  so  employed  I  was  sensible  of  the 
approach  of  something  in  the  water,  communicated  I 
presume  by  the  swell,  and  turning  round,  beheld  within 
ten  feet  of  me  a  very  large  alligator.  The  log  on  which 
I  was  standing  was  a  large  cotton  wood,  and  attached  to 
the  raft  by  its  roots.  I  was  some  thirty  feet  from  it,  and 
the  alligator  midway  between  me  and  that;  I  could  not 
therefore  reach  it  without  passing  close  to  the  alligator,  an 
experiment  which  I  was  not  inclined  to  attempt.  It  would 
be  a  very  difficult  matter  for  me  to  describe  my  feelings 
at  this  moment.  I  will  not  deny  that  I  was  very  much 
alarmed,  and  commenced  retreating  towards  the  top  of 


130       A  FRIGHTFUL  ADVENTURE   IN  MISSISSIPPI. 

the  tree,  from  which  there  was  a  large  strong  prong  pro- 
jecting some  ten  feet  above  the  water  ;  but  it  was  a  diffi- 
cult matter  to  reach  it,  as  a  point  of  the  log  between  me 
and  the  prong  was  submerged,  owing,  I  presume,  to  a 
bend  in  the  tree,  and  here,  from  the  rotting  bark  was 
growing  a  clump  of  tall  reeds  ;  I  moved  along,  however, 
cautiously  and  lightly  as  possible,  passed  over  a  portion 
of  the  sunken  point,  and  had  reached  the  reeds  and  con- 
sidered myself  safe,  when  I  discovered  a  large  water  moc- 
casin, coiled  up  and  almost  under  my  feet.  He  lay  there 
basking  his  loathsome  scales  in  the  "  noontide  sultriness,'' 
his  round  diamond-like  eyes  fixed  upon  me  in  a  very  une- 
quivocal manner,  and  his  long,  fiery,  and  purple-pointed 
tongue  hissing  defiance.  I  was  too  near  to  use  my  fish- 
ing rod,  and  stepped  back  to  club  it  and  strike.  As  I  did  so 
the  snake  uncoiled  and  moved  towards  me ;  this  accelerated 
my  retreat,  but  in  an  instant  I  was  ready  for  him,  and 
throwing  myself  back,  was  stung  on  the  calf  of  my  leg 
by  something  that  made  me  involuntarily  spring  forward, 
and  in  attempting  to  leap  over  the  snake  in  front,  my  foot 
slipped  and  I  fell,  and  snake  and  all  went  into  the  lake 
together.  «  There,  by  —  !"  is  the  first  thing  I  said,  or 
rather  thought,  «  this  is  what  you  get  by  fishing  in  such 
a  hole  as  this!  You  are  now  in  the  same  bed  with  an 
alligator,  an  alligator  gar,  and  at  least  two  snakes!" 
This,  or  something  near  akin  to  it,  crossed  my  mind  as  I 
was  going  down,  not  unmingled  with  a  sense  of  my  dan- 
gerous and  ludicrous  situation.  I  had  very  little  time  for 
reflection,  but  I  knew  it  would  not  do  to  come  up  in  the 
same  place,  because  if  I  missed  being  w  gobbled  up"  by 
the  alligator,  I  would  find  a  snake  ready  to  twine  round  my 
neck  as  soon  as  my  head  appeared  above  the  water,  or  sink 
its  faugs  in  my  hand  if  I  attempted  to  keep  it  off,  so  I 
attempted  to  reach  the  shore.  I  swam  as  far  and  as  long  as 


A  FRIGHTFUL   ADVENTURE   IN    MISSISSIPPI.       131 

I  could  without  coming  to  the  surface,  and  when  I  did  you 
may  rest  assured  I  did  not  throw  away  much  time.  Under 
I  went  again,  and  soon  had  in  some  degree  recovered  my 
self-possession,  when  my  foot  was  struck  by  a  large 
body  that  made  me  shrink,  and  for  a  moment  give  up  all 
hope,  expecting  to  be  torn  to  pieces  every  moment  by  the 
alligator  ;  but  in  an  instant  I  summoned  more  resolution, 
and  straining  every  nerve,  pushed  on,  and  soon  reached 
the  shore,  half  strangled  with  the  thick  water,  and  cov- 
ered with  mud  and  slime.  I  presume  I  must  have  struck 
a  log  wTith  my  foot,  instead  of  being  struck  by  the  alli- 
gator, as  I  never  saw  it  afterwards.  I  sat  down  on  the 
bank,  trying  to  collect  my  scattered  senses,  and  in  a  fev^> 
moments  was  joined  by  my  companions,  who  had  disco- 
vered something  wrong — the  boat  was  despatched  for  my 
hat,  seen  floating  near  the  raft,  and  for  my  handkerchief 
tied  round  a  small  limb  on  the  tree  where  I  had  been  stand- 
ing, and  with  which,  no  doubt,  I  came  in  contact,  when  I 
thought  myself  H  stung  on  the  calf  of  the  leg."  My  tale 
was  soon  given  to  "my  companions  in  its  most  frightful 
form ;  instead  of  commiserating  my  misfortunes,  they 
scarcely  retained  their  gravity  long  enough  for  me  to  finish. 
This  I  then  thought  not  only  rude,  but  unfeeling,  and  I 
returned  to  our  quarters  that  night  in  a  very  unpleasant 
mood  in  consequence. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  I  was  introduced  with  marked 
ceremony  to  the  "stranger,"  and  in  my  familiar  inter- 
course with  him  soon  forgot  the  vicissitudes  of  the  day — 
and  so  endeth  my  first  and  last  day  with  the  rod,  on  Dis- 
mal Lake. 


PRACTICAL  JOKES  AND  BAD  LIQUOR. 

It  is  a  well  known  fact  that  oftentimes  both  those  jokes 
which  are  called  a  practical' '—and  that  liquor  which  is 
termed  "  bad,"  have  been  productive  of  exceedingly  evil 
consequences;  but  whether  the  liquor  or  the  joke  has 
done  the  most  mischief,  we  are  not  called  upon  just  now 
•to  determine.  We  propose  to  make  mention  of  an  affair 
where  bad  liquor  and  a  practical  joke  were  productive  of 
the  very  best  consequences  imaginable. 

Many  years  ago,  while  the  State  of  Georgia  was  still 
in  its  infancy,  an  eccentric  creature,  named  Brown,  was 
one  of  its  Circuit  Judges.  He  was  a  man  of  considera- 
ble ability,  of  inflexible  integrity,  and  much  beloved  and 
respected  by  all  the  legal  profession,  but  he  had  one  comr 
mon  fault.  His  social  qualities  would  lead  him,  despite 
his  judgment,  into  frequent  excesses.  In  travelling  the 
Circuit  it  was  his  almost  invariable  habit,  the  night  before 
opening  the  Court,  to  get  « comfortably  corned,"  by 
means  of  appliances  common  upon  such  occasions.  If 
he  couldn't  succeed  while  operating  upon  his  own  hook, 
the  members  of  the  bar  would  generally  turn  in  anci  help 

him. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year ;  taking  his  wife— a 
model  of  a  woman  in  her  way— in  the  old-fashioned,  but 
strono-  «  carry-all,"  that  he  journeyed  some  forty  miles, 
and  reached  a  village  where  «  Court"  was  to  be  opened 
the  next  day.  It  was  along  in  the  evening  of  Sunday 
that  he  arrived  at  the  place  and  took  up  quarters  with  a 

(132) 


TllACTICAL   JOKES   AND   EAD    LIQUOR.  133 

relation  of  his  "better  half,"  by  whom  the  presence  of 
an  official  dignitary  was  considered  a  singular  honour. 
After  supper  Judge  Brown  strolled  over  to  the  only  tavern 
in  the  town,  where  he  found  many  old  friends,  called  to 
the  place,  like  himself,  on  important  professional  business, 
and  who  wTere  properly  glad  to  meet  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Judge,  «  'tis  quite  a  long  time 
since  we  have  enjoyed  a  glass  together — let  us  take  a 
drink  all  round.  Of  course,  Sterritt  (addressing  the 
landlord),  you  have  better  liquor  than  you  had  the  last 
time  we  were  here — the  stuff  you  had  then  was  not  fit  to 
give  a  dog!" 

Sterritt,  wTho  had  charge  of  the-  house,  pretended  that 
everything  was  right,  and  so  they  went  to  work.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  enlarge  upon  a  drinking  bout  in  a  coun- 
try tavern — it  will  quite  answer  our  purpose  to  state  that 
somewhere  in  the  region  of  midnight  the  Judge  wended 
his  very  devious  way  towards  his  temporary  home.  About 
the  time  he  was  leaving,  however,  some  younger  barris- 
ters, fond  of  a  "  practical,"  and  not  much  afraid  of  the 
bench,  transferred  all  the  silver  spoons  of  Sterritt  to  the 
Judge's  coat  pocket. 

It  w7as  eight  o'clock  on  Monday  morning  that  the  Judge 
rose.  Having  indulged  in  the  process  of  ablution  and 
abstersion,  and  partaken  of  a  cheerful  and  refreshing 
breakfast,  he  went  to  his  room  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
duties  of  the  day. 

"  Well,  Polly,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  "  I  feel  much  bet- 
ter than  I  expected  to  feel  after  that  frolic  of  last  night." 

"  Ah,  Judge,"  said  she,  reproachfully,  "you  are  getting 
too  old — you  ought  to  leave  off  that  business." 

«  Ah,  Polly!  what's  the  use  of  talking  ?" 

It  was  at  this  precise  instant  of  time,  that  the  Judge, 
having  put  on  his  overcoat,  was  proceeding,  according 
12 


134  PRACTICAL   JOKES   AND   BAD   LIQUOR. 

to  his  usual  custom,  to  give  his  wife  a  parting  kiss,  that 
he  happened,  in  thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  to  lay 
hold  of  Sterritt's  spoons.  He  jerked  them  out.  With 
an  expression  of  horror  almost  indescribable  he  ex- 
claimed— 

«  My  God !  Polly !" 

"  What  on  earth's  the  matter,  Jiiclgs  ?" 

"  Just  look  at  these  spoons!" 

"  Dear  me,  where  d'ye  get  them  ?" 

"  Get  them  ?  Don't  you  see  the  initials  on  them  ?" — 
extending  them  towards  her — «  I  stole  them  !" 

"  Stole  them,  Judge  ?" 

"  Yes,  stole  them  !•" 

"  My  dear  husbaud,  it  can't  be  possible  !  from  whom  ?" 

"From  Sterritt,  over  there ;  his  name  is  on  them." 

«  Good  Heavens!    how  could  it  happen  ?" 

"I  know  very  well,  Polly — I  was  very  drunk  when  I 
came  home,  wasn't  I  ?" 

"  Why,  Judge,  you  know  your  old  habit  when  you  get 
among  those  lawyers." 

"  But  was  I  very  drunk  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  was." 

"  Was  I  remarkably  drunk  when  I  got  home,  Mrs. 
Brown  ?" 

"  Yes,  Judge,  drunk  as  a  fool,  and  forty  times  as  stupid." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  Judge,  dropping  into  a  chair 
in  extreme  despondency — «  I  knew  it  would  come  to  that 
at  last.  I  have  always  thought  that  something  bad  would 
happen  to  me — that  I  should  do  something  very  wrong — 
kill  somebody  in  a  moment  of  passion  perhaps — but  I 
never  imagined  that  I  could  be  mean  enough  to  be  guilty 
of  deliberate  larceny!" 

"  But,  there  may  be  some  mistake,  Judge  ?" 

"  No  mistake,  Polly.     I  know  very  well  how  it  all 


PRACTICAL  JOKES   AND    BAD   LIQUOR.  135 

came  about.  That  fellow,  Sterritt,  keeps  the  meanest 
sort  of  liquor,  and  always  did — liquor  mean  enough  to 
make  a  man  do  any  sort  of  a  mean  thing.  I  have  always 
said  it  was  mean  enough  to  make  a  man  steal,  and  now 
I  have  a  practical  illustration  of  the  fact !"  and  the  poor 
old  man  burst  into  tears. 

"Don't  be  a,  child,"  said  his  wife,  wiping  away  the 
tears,  "  go  like  a  man,  over  to  Sterritt,  tell  him  it  was  a 
little  bit  of  a  frolic.  Pass  it  off  as  a  joke — go  and  open 
Court,  and  nobody  will  ever  think  of  it  again." 

A  little  of  the  soothing  system  operated  upon  the  Judge, 
as  such  things  usually  do ;  his  extreme  mortification  was 
finally  subdued,  and  over  to  Sterritt's  he  went  with  a 
tolerable  face.  Of  course,  he  had  but  little  difficulty  in 
settling  with  him — for  aside  from  the  fact  that  the  Judge's 
integrity  was  unquestionable,  he  had  an  inkling  of  the 
joke  that  had  been  played.  The  Judge  took  his  seat  in 
Court;  but  it  was  observed  that  he  was  sad  and  melan- 
choly, and  that  his  mind  frequently  wandered  from  the 
business  before  him.  There  was  a  lack  of  the  sense  and 
intelligence  that  usually  characterized  his  proceedings. 

Several  days  passed  away,  and  the  business  of  the 
Court  was  drawing  towards  a  close,  when  one  morning 
a  rough-looking  sort  of  a  customer  was  arraigned  on  a 
charge  of  stealing.  After  the  Clerk  had  read  the  indict- 
ment to  him,  he  put  the  question : 

*  Guilty,  or  not  guilty?" 

"  Guilty — but  drunk"  answered  the  prisoner. 

"What's  that  plea?"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  who  was 
half  dozing  on  the  bench. 

"  He  pleads  guilty,  but  says  he  was  drunk,"  replied 
the  clerk. 

"  What's  the  charge  against  the  man  ?" 

"  He  is  indicted  for  grand  larceny." 


136  PRACTICAL   JOKES    AST)   BAD    LIQUOR. 

"  What's  the  case  ?" 

"May  it  please  your  honour,"  said  the  prosecuting 
attorney,  "the  man  is  regularly  indicted  for  stealing  a 
large  sum  from  the  Columbus  Hotel." 

"  He  is,  hey  ?  and  he  pleads — " 

"  He  pleads  guilty,  but  drunk!" 

The  Judge  was  now  fully  aroused. 

"  Guilty,  but  drunk  !  That  is  a  most  extraordinary  plea. 
Young  man,  you  are  certain  you  were  drunk  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  did  you  get  your  liquor?" 

"  At  Sterritt's." 

"  D'ye  get  none  no  where  else?" 

"Not  a  drop,  sir." 

"  You  got  drunk  on  his  liquor,  and  afterwards  stole  his 
money  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Prosecutor,"  said  the  Judge,  "  do  me  the  favour 
to  enter  a  nolle  prosequi  in  that  man's  case.  That  liquor 
of  Sterritt's  is  mean  enough  to  make  a  man  do  anything 
dirty.  I  got  drunk  on  it  the  other  day  myself,  and  stole  all 
of  StcrritPs  spoons !  Release  the  prisoner,  Mr.  Sheriff;  I 
adjourn  the  Couri 


1." 


MISSISSIPPI  LEGISLATURE. 

There  may  be  readers  who  will  suppose  the  annexed 
recital  to  be  an  exaggeration  ;  but  at  least  three  hundred 
persons  who  were  in  the  Capitol  of  the  State  of  Mississippi 
on  the  3d  day  of  March,  1846,  can  testify  that  this  account 
falls  far  short  of  the  reality.  The  Clerks  of  the  House,  as 
in  duty  bound,  entered  the  report  of  the  member  from 
Greene  on  the  journals  ;  but,  on  the  next  morning,  it  was 
expunged  by  the  House  at  the  request  of  the  member 
himself. 

The  best  subject  which  came  before  the  Legislature 
during  the  session  of  1846,  was  the  all-absorbing  one  in 
regard  to  the  charter  of  "  Mclnnis'  Ferry."  The  owner 
of  the  ferry  was  a  member — himself  being  the  representa- 
tive of  his  county  of  Greene — where  the  ferry  is  located  ; 
and  through  all  the  trying  scenes  of  getting  the  charter 
through,  that  honourable  representative  bore  himself  in  a 
manner  and  with  a  spirit  which,  to  say  the  least,  were 
remarkable. 

On  the  first  broaching  of  the  subject  some  opposition 
was  made.  The  representative  from  Clarke,  an  adjoining 
county,  conceived  that  the  charter  interfered  with  the 
rights  of  other  citizens  who  had  ferries  on  the  same  river 
(the  Chickasahay),  and,  on  the  first  reading  of  the  bill,  this 
same  representative  (Mr.  Moody)  moved  its  rejection. 
This  motion  brought  Mr.  Innis  to  his  feet.  He  had  never 
spoken  before  ;  but  in  this  one  effort  (his  maiden  speech) 
he  more  than  compensated  for  his  former  remissness. 

"  I  hope,"  (said  he,  addressing  the  House,  but  not  the 
12*        •  (137) 


138  MISSISSIPPI   LEGISLATURE. 

Speaker,)  "  I  hope  you  will  not  reject  my  ferry  bill.  Gen- 
tlemen, Pm  bound  to  keep  a  ferry.  Them  other  men 
that's  got  ferries  near  me,  ain't  bound  at  all.  They've 
got  some  little  trifling  flats  to  git  across  the  river  on  when 
they  want  to  go  to  mill — and  when  it's  convenient  for  'em 
to  put  a  traveller  over,  they  do  it — and  when  it  ain't,  they 
don't.  But  Fm  bound  to  keep  a  ferry.  Ask  Mr.  Moody  ; 
he  knows  all  about  it.  He  knows  I've  kept  ferry  there 
across  the  Chickasahay  for  thirty  years  past.  My  ferry's 
right  on  the  big  road  to  Mobile  and  everywhere.  There's 
three  mails  crosses  at  my  ferry.  Gentlemen,  P?n  bound 
to  keep  ferry.  Mr.  Moody  knows  I  live  at  Leaksville, 
right  at  the  Courthouse — and  these  fellers  that  keep  the 
other  little  ferries — they  turn  my  boats  loose,  and  bore 
auger  holes  in  'em  and  sink  'em.  I  hope,  gentlemen, 
you'll  pass  my  bill.  I've  just  got  a  letter  from  my  son  last 
night — a  telling  me  that  them  fellers  has  been  boring  more 
holes  in  my  boat.  Gentlemen,  Pm  bound  to  keep  ferry. 
I  always  cross  everybody  that  comes — I'm  bound  to  do 
it.    And  I  always  keep  good  flats,  well  painted  with  tar." 

After  this  appeal  and  the  necessary  readings  being  gone 
through,  the  bill  passed  the  House  by  a  large  majority, 
and  was  sent  to  the  Senate. 

Here  a  novel  scene  occurred — unprecedented,  perhaps, 
in  the  annals  of  legislation — even  of  Mississippi  legisla- 
tion. By  a  resolution  of  the  Senate,  the  representative 
from  Greene  was  invited  to  address  that  august  body  upon 
the  merits  of  his  bill,  which  he  did  after  the  manner  indi- 
cated in  the  above  sketch  of  his  remarks  in  the  house. 
After  the  grave  Senators  had  sufficiently  amused  them- 
selves with  the  matter,  they  passed  the  bill.  The  worthy 
representative  immediately  hurried  back  to  his  seat  in  the 
House  ;  and,  although  the  clerk  was  reading  in  the  midst 
of  a  document,  the  delighted  member  exclaimed  : 


MISSISSIPPI   LEGISLATURE.  139 

«<  Mr.  Speaker,  my  ferry  bill  has  passed  the  Senate,  and 
I  want  the  House  to  concur  !" 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  this  unique  announcement. 

As  soon  as  the  matter  in  hand  was  disposed  of,  there 
was  an  obstreperous  call  by  the  House  that  the  gen- 
tleman from  Greene  should  be  heard  in  regard  to  his  mis- 
sion  to  the  other  branch  in  the  Legislature.  Mr.  Mclnnis 
rose  and  said : 

"  Mr.  Speaker,  the  Senate's  passed  my  bill !" 

Speaker. — "  What !  have  the  Senate  passed  your  ferry 
bill?" 

Mclnnis — "Yes,  sir;   they've  passed  it." 

Speaker. — "  Well,  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  that  the  Senate 
have  passed  the  ferry  bill  of  the  gentleman  from  Greene." 

Mr.  Mclnnis  proceeded : 

"  Mr.  Speaker,  when  I  went  into  the  Senate  I  told  'em 
all  about  my  ferry,  and  some  of 'em  hopped  on  my  bill." 

[Here  there  were  cries  of  "Who  opposed  it?  who 
attacked  the  ferry  bill  ?"] 

<■<•  Why,  sir,  Mr.  Ramsey  did,  and  Mr.  Labauve,  too. 
Labauve  said  he  was  travelling  along  there  once  on  an 
electioneering  tour,  and  like  many  other  politicians,  he 
was  out  of  money  ;  and  he  said  I  wouldn't  set  him  over 
at  my  ferfy,  because  he  hadn't  no  money.  I  told  him, 
right  before  the  whole  Senate,  it  wasn't  so." 

Speaker. — "  That  Labauve  is  a  dangerous  fellow  to  talk 
to  in  that  way." 

Mclnnis. — :"  Yes,  sir ;  he  said  he  would  throw  a  glove 
at  me  if  he  had  one." 

No  reporter,  whatever  his  powers  be,  could  do  justice 
to  the  various  scenes  which  the  House  and  the  Senate 
presented  in. the  progress  of  the  above-mentioned  events. 
The  crowding  of  members  and  visiters  around  the  seat  of 
the  Greene  representative  whenever  ne  rose  or  opened  his 


140  MISSISSIPPI   LEGISLATURE. 

mouth — the  roars  of  obstreperous  mirth — the  painful  con- 
tortions of  the  Speaker's  face,  as  he  vainly  strove  to  keep 
himself  and  the  House  in  an  orderly  frame.  These  things 
all  defied  description — to  say  nothing  of  the  greatest 
curiosity  of  all — the  member  from  Greene  himself. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,  a  message  came  from 
the  Senate,  stating,  among  other  acts  passed,  that  they  had 
passed  the  House  bill,  in  regard  to  the  Chickasahay  Ferry. 

The  worthy  member  again  arose — 

«  Mr.  Speaker,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  you'll  now  let  me 
have  the  bill,  to  take  to  the  Governor  to  get  him  to 
sign  it." 

Fortunately,  the  House  was  now  too  busy  in  discussing 
some  other  more  important  matter,  or  there  would  have 
been  another  convulsive  scene.  As  it  was,  there  was  an 
incontinent  burst  of  laughter,  as  sudden  as  it  was  univer- 
sal and  overwhelming,  and  then  there  was  a  calm  again. 

Night  came — and  new  fuel  was  furnished  to  feed  the 
slumbering  embers  of  that  mirth,  which  had  nearly  con- 
sumed the  House  during  the  day.  In  the  morning  a 
petition  had  been  presented,  from  Harrison  county,  by 
Mr.  McCaughn,  praying  the  Legislature  to  pass  a  law, 
providing  that  lawyers  might  be  elected  as  other  officers 
are,  and  compensated  out  of  the  State  Treasury — forbid- 
ding them  to  receive  private  fees,  &c,  &c.  On  this  peti- 
tion a  committee  had  been  appointed — including,  singu- 
larly enough,  the  member  from  Greene. 

Judge,  then,  of  the  surprise  of  the  House,  at  the  prompt- 
ness of  Mr.  Mclnnis,  when,  at  the  night  session  of  the 
very  day  he  was  appointed,  he  rose  in  his  place,  and  made 
*he  following  report,  which,  in  due  form,  was  read  at  the 
Clerk's  desk  ;  but  was  interrupted  at  the  close  of  every 
sentence  by  shouts  of  applause  and  merriment ;  crowded 


MISSISSIPPI   LEGISLATURE.  141 

as  the  hall  was  by  a  brilliant  array  both  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen : — 

THE    REPORT 

Of  Col.  Jack  Mclmiis,  from  the  Select  Committee  that  had 
Mr.  McCaughn's  Lawyer  Bill  put  to  'em. 

Now,  Mr.  Speaker,  if  this  house  will  give  me  its  deten- 
tion for  a  few  minutes,  I  think  that  I  can  explain  this 
matter. 

Mr.  McCaughn  has  introduced  a  grCat  passel  of  bills 
here,  which  is  heredical  and  null  and  void,  and  hasn't 
got  no  sense  in  'em.  He  put  in  a  bill  here  to  get  up  a 
theorlogical  servey  of  the  country,  and  this  my  constitu- 
ents is  opposed  to,  because  they  think  there's  no  use  in  it. 
The  people  have  enough  to  pay  for  now,  that  ain't  of  no 
account.  There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  'citement  about 
my  ferry  bill ;  and  when  I  had  used  up  Mr.  Moody,  and 
got  it  into  the  Senate,  Laboo  had  to  git  up  and  say  that 
he  was  at  my  ferry  wonst,  and  I  refused  to  set  him  over 
the  river,  because  he  didn't  have  no  money — and  I  jest 
told  him  what  he  said  warn't  so.  Now,  I  don't  know 
much  about  this  Laboo,  but  I  don't  think  he  is  the  clean 
cat  fur,  no  how. 

I  give  my  vues  about  the  pennytensherry  t'other  day, 
and  I  was  right,  for  the  things  there  does  look  like  they 
was  painted  with  tar — and  I  told  the  truth  about  it,  and 
you  know  it. 

Now,  Mr.  McCaughn  is  a  man  of  great  laming ;  he 
can  write  equal  to  any  man  in  this  House,  and  I'm  'sprized 
that  as  smart  a  man  should  have  such  heredical  notions. 
He  wanted  to  have  a  law  passed  here,  for  doing  away  with 
securities;  but  he  coufdn't  get  that  fixed,  and  then  he 
wanted  to  get  the  law  turned  so  that  a  man  would  have  to 
ax  his  wife  when  he  wanted  to  go  a  feller's  security.    Now, 


142  MISSISSIPPI   LEGISLATURE. 

I  have  worked  for  my  plunder,  and  I'm  opposed  to  all  such 
sort  of  laws.  The  Legislater  has  already  passed  a  law, 
giving  a  man's  wife  his  plunder,  and  his  hard  yearnings, 
and  I  believe  Mr.  McCaughn  was  the  cause  of  it,  for  it  is 
jest  like  one  of  them  heredical  laws  of  hizzen,  that  we 
have  all  hearn  so  much  about... 

Now,  I  think  this  law  bill  is  a  rascally  bill — for  I  believe 
in  letting  the  people  get  any  lawyer  he  likes,  and  pay  him 
what  he  chuses.  And  if  this  bill  passes,  why  these  here- 
dical candidates  would  be  always  treating  and  fooling  the 
people,  just  to  get  elected.  There  is  too  many  rascals  as 
is  candidates  now,  and  as  sech,  I'm  agin  it. 

I'm  much  obleeched  to  the  Legislater  for  passing 
my  ferry  bill.  They  ought  to  have  passed  it,  for  that  man 
Wally,  or  somebody  else,  bored  too  inch  auger  holes  in 
my  flat,  just  because  I  got  more  ferrying  to  do  than  he 
did  ;  but  I've  fixed  him  now,  for  I've  got  the  best  ferry 
anyhow ;  and  the  Senate's  agreed  to  it,  for  all  that  fellow 
Laboo  went  agin  it.  And  if  you'll  let  me  have  the  bill,  I 
will  jest  take  it  right  down  to  the  Governor,  to  sign  it. 
And  I  will  go  and  raise  my  sunk  ferry  boat,  and  stop  the 
auger  holes,  and  ferry  everybody  as  travels  that  way  ;  and 
I'll  take  the  greatest  pleasure  in  crossing  the  members  of 
this  Legislater,  because  they  passed  my  bill.  But  I'm 
agin  McCaughn's  bill  anyhow,  for  it  is  time  to  stop  all 
sich  heredical  doctrines. 


SHIFTING  THE  RESPONSIBILITY. 

A  Hard  Shell  Story 

BY    JOHNSON    J.    HOOPER, 

Author  of  u  Capt.  Simon  Suggs." 

While  attending  court,  recently,  in  the  adjoining 
county  of  Randolph,  a  friend  who  is  fond  of  jokes  of  all 
sorts,  and  who  relates  them  almost  as  humorously  as  "  his 
Honour,"  gave  us  the  following,  vouching  for  the  sub- 
stantial, sub-lunar  existence  of  the  parties  and  their  pre- 
sent residence  "  in  the  county  aforesaid :" 

Brethren  Crump  and  Noel  were  both  members  of  the 
Primitive  Baptist  Church,  and  both  clever,  honest  men 
who  paid  their  taxes  and  debts  as  the  same  annually  ac- 
crued, with  a  regularity  at  once  Christian  and  commend- 
able. If,  when  settling  day  came  round,  Brother  Noel 
was  "  short,"  Brother  Crump  was  sure  to  be  in  funds  ;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  it  almost  seemed  providential  how,  if 
Brother  Crump  fell  "behind,"  Brother  Noel  always  had  a 
surplus.  Thus,  borrowing  from  and  lending  to  each 
other,  worshipping  at  the  same  church,  and  living  only  a 
mile  apart,  an  intimacy  gradually  ripened  between  them  ; 
so  that  at  last  they  did  not  hesitate  to  speak  in  the  freest 
and  most  familiar  manner  to  each  other,  even  in  regard  to 
their  respective  foibles. 

Now,  it  came  to  pass  that  Brother  Crump,  during  the 
liveliest  period  of  the  cotton  season,  drove  into  Wetumpka 
and  disposed  of  his  "  crap"  of  ten  bales,  at  the  very  fair 

(143) 


144  SHIFTING   THE   RESPONSIBILITY. 

price  of  12J-  cents  per  pound.  It  was  more  than  he  ex- 
pected, and  as  the  world  was  eas)r  with  him,  he  determined 
to  invest,  and  did  actually  invest,  a  portion  of  the  proceeds 
of  the  sale  of  his  cotton,  in  a  barrel  of  Western  whiskey; 
paying  therefor  at  the  rate  of,  precisely  two  pounds  of 
middling  cotton  for  one  gallon  of  "  ditto"  whiskey. 

Of  course  it  was  "  norated  in  the  settlement"  that  old 
man  Crump  had  bought  a  whole  barrel,  and  after  a  few 
weeks  people  began  to  observe  that  his  nose  grew  redder 
and  his  eye  more  moist.  The  idea  that  Brother  Crump 
was  "  drinking  too  much"  diffused  itself  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, until,  as  one  might  say,  it  became  epidemical. 
People  talked  and  talked — more  especially  "  what  few"  of 
other  denominations  of  Christians  dwell  thereabouts. 

Brother  Noel  was  "  sore  troubled"  at  the  scandal  which 
circulated  about  his  brother  and  friend,  and  especially  re- 
gretted the  injury  it  brought  to  the  "  'ciety  at  Sharon.  So 
one  morning  he  stepped  over  to  Brother  Crump's  and  found 
the  old  man  in  a  half  doze  in  his  little  porch. 

"  Won't  you  take  a  dram  ?"  asked  Brother  Crump,  as 
soon  as  he  was  aware  of  the  presence  of  his  neighbour. 

*<  Why,  yes,  I'm  not  agin  a  dram  when  a  body  wants 
it." 

Brother  Crump  got  his  bottle,  and  the  friends  took  a 
dram  apiece. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Brother  Noel,"  said  Crump,  "  that 
sperits  is  a  blessin'." 

"  Y-e-s!"  responded  Noel;  "  sperits  is  a  blessin',  but 
accordin'  to  my  notion,  its  a  blessin'  that  some  of  us 
abuses." 

"  Well  now,  Brother  Noel,  who  do  you  think  abuses  the 
blessin'  ?" 

"  Well,  it's  hard  to  say— but  people  talk--don't  you 
think  you  drink  too  much,  Brother  Crump  ?" 


SHIFTING    THE   RESPONSIBILITY.  145 

"  It's  hard  to  say — it's  hard  to  say,"  returned  Crump. 
"  Sometimes  I've  thought  I  was  a  drinkin'  too  much — then 
again,  I'd  think  may  be  not.  What  is  man  ?  A  weak 
wurrum  of  the  dust!  What  the  Lord  saith,  that  shall  be 
done  !  So  I  left  it  to  the  Lord  to  say  whether  I  was  goin' 
too  fur  in  sperits.  I  put  the  whole  'sponsiMlily  on  him  ;  I 
prayed  to  him,  if  I  was  drinkin'  too  much,  to  take  away 
my  appetite  for  sperits." 

Here  Brother  Noel  groaned  piously,  and  asked,  "  What 
then,  Brother  Crump?" 

"  And,"  replied  Crump,  "  I've  prayed  that  prayer  three 
times,  and  he  hain't  done  it!  So  I'm  clear  of  the  'spon- 
sibility  any  way." 

"  The  Lord's  will  be  done  !"  ejaculated  Noel,  and  after 
taking  another  dram  he  went  home,  thinking  all  the  way, 
how  cleverly  Brother  Crump  had  shifted  the  responsibility! 


13 


HOW  MIKE  HOOTER  CAME  VERY  NEAR 
"  WOLLOPING"  ARCH  COONY. 

A    YAZOO     SKETCH. 

(With  an  Illustration.) 

The  following  is  from  the   same  pen  as  "  Mike  Hooter's    Bar 
Story,"  and,  like  it,  was  found  "lviog  about  loose." 

In  the  Yazoo  hills,  near  the  town  of  Satartia,  in  the 
good  state  of  Mississippi,  there  lived,  at  no  distant  date, 
one  Mike  Hooter,  whose  hunting  and  preaching  adven- 
tures became  famous  in  all  the  land.  Besides  being  a 
great  bear-hunter,  and  hard  to  beat  at  preaching,  Mike 
professed  to  be  <<  considerable1'  of  a  fighter,  and  in  a  regu- 
lar knock-dowm-and-drag-out  tow,  was  hard  to  beat. 

In  order  that  the  world  may  not  remain  in  darkness  as 
to  his  doings  in  this  last  behalf,  and  fearing  lest  there  may 
be  no  one  who  entertains  for  him  that  particularly  warm 
regard  which  animates  us  towards  him,  we  have  thought 
it  incumbent  on  us  in  evidence  of  our  attachment  for  the 
reverend  hero,  to  jot  down  an  incident  that  lingers  in  our 
memory  respecting  him — bequeathing  it  as  a  rich  legacy 
to  remotest  time.  Entertaining  such  partiality,  we  may 
be  pardoned  for  following  Mike  in  one  of  his  most  stirring 
adventures,  related  in  his  peculiar  and  expressive  verna- 
cular. 

I'm  one  of  the  peaceblest  fellers,  said  Mike,  that 
ever  trotted  on  hind  legs,  and  rather  than  git  into  er  fuss 
'bout  nothin',  I'd  let  er  chap  spit  on  me  ;  but  when  it 
comes  to  rubbin'  it  in,  I  always  in  gen'rally  kinder  r'ars 
up  an'  won't  stan'  it. 

(146) 


MIKE  HOOTER  AND  ARCH  COONY.       147 

But  thar's  some  fellers  up  in  Yazoo  what  would  rather 
git  into  er  scrimmage  than  eat.  An'  I've  seen  er  few  up 
tliar  what  war  so  hungry  for  er  fight  that  they  fell  away 
an'  got  so  poor  an'  thin  that  they  had  to  lean  up  agin  er 
saplin'  to  cuss ! 

That  chap  Arch  Coony,  was  er  few  in  that  line! 
He  was  the  durndest,  rantankeroushoss-fly  that  ever  clum 
er  tree  !  I  tell  you  what,  ef  I  hadn't  er  bin  thar  I 
wouldn't  er  b'leeved  it.  I  seed  him  one  day  in  Satartia, 
git  up  from  er  jug  of  whiskey  when  he  hadn't  drunk 
morn'n  half  of  it,  and  leave  t'other  half  to  spile,  an'  go 
an'  pitch  into  er  privit  'spute  'twene  two  Injuns,  (when 
he  didn't  care  er  durn  cent  which  wolloped  t'other,)  an' 
lamin  both  on  um  out'n  ther  mockasins ! 

Well,  you  see,  Arch  was  mighty  fond  of  them  kinder 
tricks,  an'  ef  he  seed  er  feller  he  thought  he  could  lamm 
without  no  danger,  he  wouldn't  make  no  bones,  but  he'd 
jest  go  up  to  the  chap  and  make  faces  at  him,  and  harry 
his  feelings  er  bit,  an'  ef  the  feller  showed  spunky-like, 
he'd  let  him  alone,  an'  ax  him  to  take  er  drink  ;  but  ef  he 
sorter  tried  to  sidle  out  of  it,  Arch  would  git  as  mad  as  all 
wrath ,  an'  sw'ar,  an'  cuss,  an'  r'ar,  an'  charge  like  er 
ram  at  er  gate-post,  and  the  fust  thing  you  know'd  he'd 
shuck  off  his  coat,  an'  when  the  feller  warn't  'spectin' 
nuthin',  Arch  would  fetch  him  er  side-wipe  on  the  head, 
and  knock  him  into  the  middle  o'  next  week! 

You  see  I  didn't  like  them  sorter  doins  much,  me,  my- 
self, I  didn't,  an'  I  all'ays  ef  ever  I  got  er  chance  at  Arch 
I'd  let  him  down  er  button-hole  er  two.  He  was  gettin' 
too  high  up  in  the  pictures  enny  how,  an'  sez  I,  one  day, 
in  er  crowd  ;  sez  I,  «  ef  that  feller  Arch  Coony  don't  mind 
which  side  of  his  bread's  buttered,  I'll  git  hold  of  him  one 
of  these  days,  an'  I'll  make  him  see  sites!"  Well,  you 
see,  thar  was  two  or  three  sheep-stealin'  chaps  listenin' 


148  HOW   MIKE   HOOTER   CAME   VERY  NEAR 

to  what  I  sed,  an'  they  goes  an'  tells  Arch  the  fust  chance 
I  got,  I  was  gwine  to  larrup  hirn.  Well,  that  riled  him 
like  all  fury,  an'  soon  as  he  hearn  it,  he  begin  er  cussin' 
like  wrath,  and  sez  he,  "  dod  rot  that  ole  Mike  Hooter ! 
— he  pertend  to  be  er  preacher ! — his  preachin'  ain't  nu- 
thin'  but  loud  hollerin'  no  how !"  So  you  see,  them  same 
chaps,  they  comes  an'  tells  me  what  Arch  had  sed,  an'  I 
got  mad,  too,  an'  we  had  the  durndest  rumpus  in  the 
neighbourhood  you  ever  hearn  ! 

I  didn't  see  nuthin'  of  Arch  from  that  time  till  about  er 
month.  Every  time  I  went  down  to  Satartia  to  buy  eny- 
thing — er  barrel  of  whiskey,  or  backer,  or  such  like  truck, 
for  privit  use — I  looked  for  Arch,  and  Arch  he  looked  for 
me,  but,  somehow  or  'tother,  he  never  crossed  my  path. 
At  last,  one  day  I  sent  him  word  I  believed  he  was  skeer'd 
of  me,  and  the  fust  chance  I  got  I'd  take  the  starch  out'n 
him  as  sure  as  shooting  ;  and  he  sent  word  back  to  me 
that  was  a  game  two  could  play  at,  and  when  I  wanted 
to  try  it,  he'd  see  if  he  couldn't  help  me. 

Well,  things  went  on  that  way  for  er  long  time,  and  I 
didn't  see  nothin'  of  Arch ;  so  I  begin  to  forgit  all  about 
him.  At  last,  one  day,  when  me  and  two  or  three  other 
chaps  was  gwine  down  to  Big  Black  River, -to  go  bar 
hunting  on  t'other  side  of  it,  I  hearn  the  darndest  clatter- 
wacking  and  noise  in  the  road  behind  us,  and  when  I 
turned  round  to  see  what  in  the  name  of  thunder  it  was, 
thar  was  Arch  an'  er  whole  lot  of  fellers  cummin'  down 
the  road,  er  galloping  full  tilt  right  up  to  us,  an'  er  gwine 
bar  huntin'  too. 

When  I  seed  him,  I  was  so  mad  I  thought  I  should  er 
burst  right  wide  open !  I  was  hot,  I  tell  you,  and  sez  I  to 
myself,  Now  Mr.  Arch,  I've  got  you,  and  if  you  don't 
keep  your  eye  skin'd,  I'll  lick  you  till  your  hide  won't 
hold  shucks. 


"wolloping"  Alien  coony.  149 

Toreckly,  Arch  he  cum  up  along  side,  and  looked  me 
right  plum  in  the  face  as  savage  as  er  meet  axe  !  and,  sez 
he,  "  Good  mornin',  ole  Preach! — give  us  your  paw  !" 

I  see  thar  was  hell  in  him  as  big  as  er  meetin'  house, 
and  I  'termined  to  give  him  as  good  as  he  sent ;  so  I 
looked  at  him  sorter  servagerous  like,  and,  sez  I,  «  Look 
here,  hoss,  how  can  you  have  the  face  to  talk  to  me,  arter 
saying  what  you  sed  ?" 

"Why,"  sez  he,  "Uncle  Mike,  didn't  you  begin  it?" 

"  No,"  sez  I,  "  an'  ef  you  sez  I  begun  it,  I'll  larrup 
you  in  er  inch  of  your  life  !" 

Sez  he,  "  You  eternal  ole  cuss,  ef  you  want  to  larrup 
me,  just  larrup  away  as  soon  as  you  darn  please,  and 
we'll  see  which  'ell  git  the  wust  of  it!" 

"Now,"  sez  I,  "Hikes  you,  Arch,  'cause  I  all'ays 
thought  you  was  a  fust-rate  feller;  but  ain't  you  been 
'busin'  me  every  war  fur  evry  thing  you  could  think  of?" 

"  Yes,"  sez  he,  "  but  didn't  you  say  you'd  git  holt  of 
me  one  of  these  days  and  make  me  see  sites  ?" 

"  No,"  sez  I,  "  I  didn't ;  but  this  here's  what  I  sed," 
sez  I,  "  ef  that  feller  Arch  Coony  don't  mind  which  side  of 
his  bread's  buttered,  I'll  git  holt  of  him  one  of  these  days 
and  make  him  see  sites !" 

"  Well,"  sez  he,  "Uncle  Mike,  you  knows  I'm  the  most 
peaceablest  feller  living,  and  always  minds  which  side  of 
my  bread's  buttered,  and  ef  that  is  all  you  sed  'taint 
nothin' — so  let's  take  er  drink !" 

Then  he  tuck  out  er  tickler  of  whisky,  and  arter  he'd 
tuck  three  er  four  swallers  out'n  it,  sez  he,  "  Uncle  Mike, 
obleege  me  by  taking  er  horn!" 

"  No,"  sez  I,  "  I  wont  do  no  sich  er  dog  on  thing,  for 
when  I  likes  a  chap  I  likes  him,  and  when  I  don't  like  him, 
I  don't  like  him  ;  but  if  you  wants  to  fight,  I'm  your  man." 

You  oughter  seen  Arch  then!  I  think  he  was  the  most 
13* 


150  HOW   MIKE   HOOTER    CAME   VERY   NEAR 

maddest  man  that  ever  wobbled  on  two  'hind  legs  !  He 
r'ard  an'  pitched,  and  cussed,  an'  swore,  'tell  you'd  er 
bought  the  day  of  judgmen'  was  at  hand ! 

When  I  see  him  cuttin  up  that  way,  I  commence'  get- 
ting mad,  too,  an'  my  knees,  they  begin  to   shake,  sorter 

like  I  had  er  chill ;  an' Skeer'd — no,  sir ! — an'  I  sposed 

thar  was  gwine  to  be  the  devil  to  pay !  I  give  you  my 
word.  I  aint  bin  so  wrathy  afore  but  once  since,  an' 
that  was  t'other  day  when  Mat  Cain,  the  blacksmith, 
drunk  up  my  last  bottle  of  "  ball-face,"  an'  when  I  'tacked 
him  'bout  it,  sed  he  thought  it  was  milk. 

But  that  ain't  neither  here  nor  thar.  As  I  was  a  sayin', 
Arch,  he  cussed  at  me,  an'  I  cussed  at  him,  an'  the  fellers 
what  was  along  with  me  sed  I  beat  him  all  holler ! 

Torectly  I  begin  to  get  tired  of  jawin'  away  so  much, 
an'  sez  I,  "Arch,  what's  the  use  of  makin  sich  er  allured 
racket  'bout  nothin'?  Spose  we  make  it  up  !" 

<<  Good  as  wheat,"  sez  he. 

"  Well,"  sez  I,  «  give  us  your  paw,"  sez  I,  «  but,"  sez 
I,  "  thar's  one  thing  you  sed  what  sorter  sticks  in  my  craw 
yit,  an'  ef  you  don't  pollogise,  I'll  wollop  you  for  it  right 
now !" 

"  What  does  yow  mean  ?"  sez  he. 

Sez  I,  "  Didn't  you  sed  one  day  that  my  preachin' 
warn't  nuthin'  but  loud  hollerin'  ?" 

"  Yes,"  sez  he,  "  but  didn't  you  send  me  word  one  time 
that  you  b'lieved  I  was  skeered  of  you,  an'  the  fast  chance 
you  got,  you'd  take  the  starch  out'n  me  as  sure  as  er 
gun  ?" 

Sez  I,  "  Yes,  but  what  does  that  signify  ?" 

"  Well,  sez  he,  "  ef  you'll  take  back  what  you  sed,  I'll 
take  back  what  I  sed." 

Then  I  begin  to  get  as  mad  as  all  wrath ;  an'  sez  I, 
"  You  eternal  sheep-stealin',  whisky-drinkin',  nigger-lam- 


"wolloping"  arch  coony.  151 

min',  bow-legged,  taller-faced  son  of  er never  mind 

what — does  you  want  me  to  tell  er  lie  by  chawin  up  my 
own  words?  Ef  that's  what's  you're  arter,  jest  come  on, 
an'  I'll  larrup  you  tell  your  mammy  won't  know  you  from 
a  pile  of  sassage  meat." 

So  we  kcp  er  ridin'  on  an'  er  cussin  one  another  worse 
than  two  Choctaw  Injuns,  an'  toreckly  we  cum  to  the 
ferry-boat  whar  we  had  to  cross  the  river.  Soon  as  we 
got  thar,  Arch  he  hopped  down  off'n  his  ole  hoss,  an'  com- 
menced shuckin'  his  self  fur  er  fight,  an'  I  jumped  down, 
too.  I  see  the  devil  was  in  him  as  big  as  er  bull,  so  I 
begin  grittin'  my  teeth,  an'  lookin'  at  him  as  spunky  as  er 
Dominicker  rooster ;  an'  now,  sez  I,  "  Mister  Arch  Coony, 
I  sed  I'd  make  you  see  sites,  an'  the  fust  thing  you  know, 
I'll  show  em  to  you!"  Then  I  pulled  off  my  ole  Sunday- 
go-to-meetin'  coat,  an'  slammed  it  down  on  er  stump, 
an',  sez  I,  «  Lay  thar,  ole  Methodist,  till  I  learn  this  coon 


some  sense 


i" 


I  soon  see  thar  was  gwine  to  be  the  bustinest  fight  that 
ever  was ;  so  I  rolled  up  my  sleeves,  an'  Arch  rolled  up 
his'n,  and  we  was  gwine  at  it  reg'lar. 

"  Nowt,"  sez  he,  "  ole  pra'r  meet'ri,  pitch  in !" 

Well,  I  jist  begin  sidelin'  up,  an'  he  begin  sidelin'  up, 
an'  soon  as  I  got  close  'nuff  to  him,  so  as  I  could  hit  him 
a  jo-darter,  sez  he,  "  Hole  on  er  minit — this  ground's 
too  rooty — wait  till  I  clear  the  sticks  away  from  here, 
so  as  I  can  have  a  far  chance  to  give  it  to  you  good !" 

"Don't  holler  till  you're  out'n  the  woods,"  says  I, 
"p'raps  when  I'm  done  with  you,  you  won't  say  my 
preachin'  ain't  nuthin  but  loud  hollerin',  I  spec  /" 

When  he'd  done  scrapin'  off  the  groun',  it  looked  jest 
like  two  bulls  had  bin  thar,  pawin'  up  the  dirt — I  give  you 
my  word  it  did. 


152     HOW  MIKE  HOOTER  CAME  VERY  NEAR 

Well,  as  I  sed  before,  he  sidled  up  and  I  sidled  up, 
"  an'  now,"  sez  I,  « look  out  for  your  bread-basket,  ole 
stud,  fur  ef  I  happen  to  give  you  er  jolt  thar,  p'raps  it'll 
turn  your  stomach." 

So  thar  we  stood,  head  and  tale  up,  jest  like  two  chicken 
cocks  in  layin'  time  ;  an',  sez  I  to  him,  «  Arch,  I'm  gwine  to 
maul  you  tell  you  won't  know  yerself !" 

Soon  as  we  got  close  'nufT,  an'  I  see  he  was  erbout  to 
make  er  lunge  at  me,  sez  I,  "Hole  on, dod  drot  you!  wait 
till  I  unbutton  my  gallowses,  an'  may-be-so,  then  I'll  show 
you  them  sites  what  we  was  talkin'  'bout !" 

Well,  all  the  fellers  was  stanin'  roun'  ready  to  take 
sides  in  the  fight,  an'  toreckly  the  chap  what  kep  the  ferry, 
he  'gin  to  get  tired  of  keepin'  the  ferry-boat  waitin',  an 
sez  he,  "  Cuss  your  pictures,  I'm  not  gwine  to  keep  this 
here  boat  waitin'  no  longer,  an'  people  on  t'other  side 
waitin'  to  get  over ;  so,  ef  you  wants  to  fight,  you  come 
over  on  t'other  side  an'  fight  thar !" 

"  Good  as  ole  wheat,"  sez  I ;  «  ennything  to  keep  peace 
away — ef  you  say  so,  let's  get  in  the  boat  and  settle  it 
over  thar."  Well,  they  all  agreed  to  that  without  sayin' 
er  word,  an5  Arch,  he' got  into  the  ferry-boat,  and  all  the 
fellers  they  follered.  When  the  boat  was  'bout  pushin' 
off,  I  jumped  into  the  eend  of  it,  an'  was  gwine  to  lead 
my  boss  on  too,  but  the  all-fired  critter  was  skeer'd  to 
jump  on  to  it,  and  sez  I  to  the  man  what  kept  the  ferry, 
sez  I,  "  Why  in  the  h-11  don't  you  wait  till  I  gets  this 
durned  four-leo^ed  critter  into  the  boat  ?"  He  didn't  wait 
to  say  er  word,  but  kep  shovein'  the  boat  out,  and  toreckly 
my  hoss  begin  pullin'  back  with  the  bridle,  an'  I  er  holuin 
on  to  it,  an'  the  fust  thing  I  know'd  I  went  kerswash  into 
the  drink!  So  you  see,  in  er  bout  erminit  thar  was  I,  on 
this  side  of  the  river,  an'  thar  was  Arch  on  t'other  side, 
an'  no  chance  for  me  to  git  at  him.     I  tell  you  what,  I 


How  Mike  Hooter  came  vert  near  "  wolloping"  Arch  Coony.— Page  1 


"wolloping"  ARCn  COONY.  153 

was  hot  then! — an'  what  was  worser,  Arch  he  holler'd 
out  an'  sed  he  b'lieved  I'd  skeer'd  the  hoss  an'  made  him 
pull  back  on  purpose  to  git  out'n  the  scrape.  When  I 
hearn  him  say  that,  I  was  so  mad  I  farly  biled ! 

Hows'ever,  I  soon  see  'twarn't  no  use  raisin'  er  racket 
'bout  what  couldn't  be  helped,  so  I  'eluded  I'd  have  my 
satisfaction  out'n  him  enny  way,  an'  I  begin  shakin'  my 
fist  at  him,  an'  er  cussin'  him.     Sez  I,  "  You  eternal, 

yaller-faced,  pisen-mouthed,  suck-egg  son  of  er ! 

what  is  it  you  ain't  mean  'nufT  for  me  to  call  you?"  I 
tell  you  what  (an'  I  hope  to  be  forgive  for  swarin')  I  cussed 
him  blue ! 

Well,  I  was  so  outdone  I  didn't  wait  for  the  boat  to 
come  back,  for  it  was  gittin'  most  night,  an'  too  late  for 
bar  huntin'  that  day — 'sides,  my  wife  she  would  be 
'spectin'  me  at  the  house,  an'  might  raise  pertickler  h— 11 
if  I  didn't  git  thar  in  time ;  so  I  jumped  on  my  ole  hoss 
an'  put  for  home.  But  the  way  I  cussed  and  'bused  Arch 
when  I  got  on  that  hoss,  was  er  sin  ! — an'  the  further  I  got 
away  from  him  the  louder  I  hollered !  I  pledge  you  my 
word,  you  might  er  hearn  me  er  mile  ! 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  last  word  I  sed  to  him, 
sez  I,  "  Arch,  you've  'scaped  me  this  time  by  er  axident, 
but  the  next  time  you  cross  my  path,  I'll  larrup  you  worse 
nor  the  devil  beatin'  tan-bark! — I  will,  by  hokey  !" 

Whew  !  whistled  Mike,  drawing  a  long  breath.  I  tell 
you  what,  I  come  the  nearest  wollopin'  that  feller,  not  to 
do  it,  that  ever  you  saw ! 

At  this  point  Mike  donned  his  coon-skin  cap,  and  giving 
it  a  terrific  slam}  that  brought  it  over  his  eyes,  vanished ! 


THE  FIRST  PIANO  IN  NORTHERN  ILLINOIS. 

A  few  evenings  since,  after  reading  to  a  lady  the  story 
about  the  introduction  of  a  Piano  Forte  into  the  State  of 
Arkansas — which  is  conceded  on  all  hands  to  be  a  good 
'un — my  feminine  friend  related  to  me  the  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  first  appearance  of  the  "  inanimate  quad- 
ruped" in  the  northern  portion  of  the  Sucker  State — she 
being  "  an  eye-witness"  to  what  occurred  on  that  occa- 
sion. For  the  amusement  of  my  readers  I  will  venture 
to  describe  them  : — 

During:  the  summer  following;  the  termination  of  the 
Black-Hawk  war — being  among  the  first  of  the  "Down 
East"  emigrants  to  the  country  then  barely  evacuated  by 
the  "  red  men  of  the  forest" — Dr.  A.,  of  Baltimore, 
removed  to  what  has  since  become  a  small  town  near  the 

Illinois   river,  by   the   name   of  P .     The   Doctor's 

family  was  composed  of  three  young  ladies  and  his 
wife,  all  four  of  whom  were  performers  on  the  piano, 
and  one  of  them  the  possessor  of  the  instrument  in 
question. 

As  is  usually  the  case  in  all  newly-settled  places  when 
a  "new  comer"  makes  his  first  appearance,  the  "  neigh- 
bours "  (that  were  to  be)  had  collected  together  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  the  Doctor's  "plunder"  unpacked, 
and  making  the  acquaintance  of  its  possessor. 

(154) 


THE   FIRST   PIANO    IN   NORTHERN    ILLINOIS.       155 

Dr.  A.'s  «  household"  was  stowed  away  in  seven  large 
wagons — being  first  packed  in  pine  boxes,  on  which  were 
painted  in  large  black  letters  the  contents,  address,  &c. 

One  waGfon  after  another  was  unloaded  without  much 
sensation  on  the  part  of  the  little  crowd  of  lookers  on, 
except  an  occasional  exclamation,  similar  to  the  following 
from  those  who  had  "  never  seen  the  like  before"  : — 

"  <  Glass— This  side  up  with  care  !'  Why,  I  thought  this 
ere  fellar  was  a  Doctor!  What  on  yearth  is  he  going  to 
do  with  that  box  full  of  winders!" 

"This  side  up  with  care !"  exclaimed  one.  "He's 
got  his  paragoric  and  ile-of-spike  fixins  in  that.  W7on't 
he  fizic  them  agur  fellows  down  on  the  river  ?" 

In  the  last  wagon  there  was  but  one  large  box,  and  on 
it  were  painted  the  words — "Piano  Forte — Keep  dry  and 
handle  carefully."  It  required  the  assistance  of  all  the 
bystanders  to  unload  this  box,  and  the  curiosity  excited 
in  the  crowd  upon  reading  the  foregoing  words,  and  hear- 
ing the  musical  sounds  emitted  as  it  struck  the  ground, 
can  only  be  gathered  by  giving  a  few  of  the  expressions 
that  dropped  from  the  spectators. 

"  Pine  Fort!"  said  a  tall,  yellow-haired,  fever-and-ague- 
looking  youth — «  Wonder  if  he's  afeerd  of  the  Inguns  ? 
He  can't  scare  them  with  a  pine  fort ! !" 

"  K-e-e-p  D-r-y,"  was  spelled  by  a  large  raw-boned 
looking  man,  who  was  evidently  a  liberal  patron  of  "  old 

bald  face,"  who  broke  off  at  the  letter  y  with,  "  D 

your  temperance  caracturs ;    your   needn't  come  round 
here  with  tracts !" 

He  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by  a  stout-built  person- 
age, who  cried  out — 

"  He's  got  his  skeltons  in  thar,  and  he's  afeerd  to  giv 
them  liker,  for  they'll  break  out  if  he  does  !  Poor  fellars ! 
they  must  suffer  powerfully !" 


156       THE  FIRST   PIANO   IN  NORTHERN   ILLINOIS. 

"  Handle  carefully!"  said  a  man,  with  a  red  hunting- 
shirt,  and  the  size  of  whose  "  fist,"  as  he  doubled  it  up, 
was  twice  that  of  an  ordinary  man.  "  There's  some  live 
crittur  in  thar.  Don't  you  hear  him  groan  ?"  This  was 
said  as  the  box  struck  the  ground,  and  the  concussion 
caused  a  vibration  of  the  strings. 

No  sooner  had  all  hands  let  go  of  the  box,  than  Dr.  A. 
was  besieged  by  his  neighbours — all  of  whom  were  deter- 
mined to  know  what  were  its  contents,  and  what  was  the 
meaning  of  the  words,  "Piano  Forte."  On  his  telling 
them  that  it  was  a  musical  instrument,  some  «  reckoned 
that  it  would  take  a  tarnal  sight  of  wind  to  blow  it!" 
others,  "  that  it  would  take  a  lot  of  men  to  make  it 
go!"  &c,  &c.  The  Doctor  explained  its  operations  as 
well  as  he  could,  but  still  his  description  was  any- 
thing but  satisfactory ;  and  he  could  only  get  rid  of  his 
inquisitive  neighbours  by  promising  "  a  sight"  at  an 
early  day. 

Three  days — days  that  seemed  like  weeks  to  the  per- 
sons before  mentioned — elapsed  before  the  premises  of 
Dr.  A.  were  arranged  for  the  reception  of  visitors ;  and 
various  and  curious  were  the  surmises  among  the  "  set- 
tlers" during  this  time.  Dr.  A.  and  his  "  plunder"  were 
the  only  topics  of  conversation  for  miles  around.  The 
Doctor's  house  had  but  one  lower  room,  but  this  was  one 
of  double  the  ordinary  size,  and  the  carpets  were  all  too 
small  to  cover  the  entire  floor ;  hence  a  strip  of  bare  floor 
appeared  at  each  side  of  the  room.  Opposite  to  and 
facing  the  door  was  placed  the  "  Pine  Fort."  All  was 
ready  for  the  admission  of  "  vizters,"  and  Miss  E.  was  to 
act  as  the  first  performer.  The  Doctor  had  but  to  open 
the  door,  and  half  a  score  of  men  were  ready  to  enter. 
Miss  E.  took  her  seat,  and  at  the  first  sounding  of  the 


THE   FIRST    TIANO   IN   NORTHERN   ILLINOIS.        157 

instrument,  the  whole  party  present  rushed  in.  Some  went 
directly  up  to  the  "  crittur,"  as"  it  had  been  called  on 
account  of  its  having  four  legs — some,  more  shy,  remained 
close  to  the  door,  where,  if  necessary,  they  could  more 
easily  make  their  escape,  while  others,  who  had  never 
seen  a  carpet,  were  observed  walking  round  on  the  strip 
of  bare  floor,  lest  by  treading  on  the  "  handsome  kaliker," 
they  might  «  spile"  it! 

The  first  tune  seemed  to  put  the  whole  company  in 
ecstacies.  The  raw-boned  man,  who  was  so  much  opposed 
to  temperance  tracts,  pulled  out  a  flask  of  whiskey,  and 
insisted  that  the  "  gal,"  as  he  called  Miss  E.,  should  drink. 
Another  of  the  company  laid  down  a  dime,  and  wanted 
"  that's  worth"  more  out  of  the  "forty  pains  "  as  the 
name  of  the  instrument  had  come  to  him  after  travelling 
through  some  five  or  six  pronunciations.  Another,  with  a 
broad  grin  on  his  face,  declared  that  he  would  give  his 
"  claim"  and  all  the  "  truck"  on  it,  if  his  "  darter"  could 
have  such  a  "cupboard!"  The  "  pine  fort"  man  sug- 
gested that  if  that  sort  of  music  had  been  in  the  Black 
Hawk  war,  «  they  would  have  skeered  the  Inguns  like 
all  holler !" 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that  it  was  late  at  night  before 
Miss  E.  and  the  other  ladies  of  the  house  could  satisfy 
their  delighted  hearers  that  they  were  all  "tired  out." 
The  whole  country  for  twenty  miles  round  rung  with  the 
praises  of  Dr.  A.'s  "  consarns"  and  their  «  musical  cup- 
board." The  Doctor  immediately  had  any  quantity  of 
patients— all  of  whom,  however,  would  come  in  per- 
son for  "  advice,"  or  for  a  few  " agur  pills,"  but 
none  of  whom  would  leave  without  hearing  the  «  forty 
pains." 

With  an  easy  way  and  a  good-natured  disposition,  Dr.  A. 
14 


158       THE   FIRST   PIANO   IN   NORTHERN   ILLINOIS. 

soon  formed  an  extensive  acquaintance,  obtained  a  good 
practice,  and  became  a  popular  man.  He  was  elevated 
to  some  of  the  most  responsible  offices  in  the  gift  of  the 
people — one  of  which  he  held  at  the  time  of  his  death. 
So  much  for  the  charms  of  a  Piano  Forte ! 


PRINTING  A  HORSE. 

A    SAVANNAH    SKETCH. 

We  take  the  following  capital  "  Georgia  Scene"  from  the 
Savannah  u  Friend  of  the  Family.77 

On  the  .evening  of  a  damp,  drizzling  day,  while  we 
were  busied  in  putting  the  "  Friend"  to  press,  our  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  the  lumbering  foot  falls  of  two  pair 
of  substantial  brogans  on  the  stairway  leading  to  our 
printing  office,  and  presently  by  the  crowns  of  two  Rough 
and  Ready  hats,  which  rose  above  a  pair  of  heads  which  were 
followed  by  shoulders  and  so  on,  until  two  athletic  speci- 
mens of  the  «  rural  population"  of  Georgia  stood  revealed 
before  us.  Advancing  a  few  steps  from  the  stairway,  the 
two  came  to  a  halt  and  gazed  round  the  apartment^  occa- 
sionally casting  furtive  glances  about  them,  as  if  appre- 
hensive of  being  caught  up  and  done  for  by  the  printing 
presses  that  were  in  operation  in  their  immediate  vicinity. 
One  of  the  party  had  his  attention  particularly  attracted 
by  the  self-inking  machine,  the  operation  of  which  he 
seemed  peculiarly  anxious  to  understand,  while  the  other 
was  making  spasmodic  efforts  to  smoke  a  horrid  bad  cigar. 

Presently  the  man  with  the  cigar  broke  silence. 

"  Do  you  print  horses  here?"  said  he,  holding  his  cigar 
between  his  finger  and  thumb  in  an  attitude  rather  too 
striking  to  be  graceful. 

Apprehending  that  we  did  not  rightly  understand  the 
question,  we  asked — 

«  Handbills  ?" 

"  "What's  them,  Bill  ?"  inquired  the  speaker  of  his  friend. 

(159) 


160  PRINTING  A   nORSE. 

"  Dad  fetch  it  if  I  know,"  said  Bill  j  «  'thout  ther  notes 
o'  hand." 

The  two  conversed  together  in  a  low  voice  for  a  moment, 
during  which  time  the  first  speaker  made  several  ineffectual 
efforts  to  get  a  whiff  from  his  cigar.  Presently,  turning 
round  and  elevating  his  voice,  he  said  : 

«  Look  a  here,  stranger,  can  you  print  a  horse,  or  can 
you  not  ?" 

He  paused  for  a  reply,  while  we  endeavoured  to  frame 
an  answer. 

"Because,"  resumed  the  speaker,  »  I  want  a  first  rate 
picter  of  my  horse  Red  Eagle,  an  dif  you're  the  man 
what  can  do  it,  say  the  word  !" 

"  We  can  do  almost  any  kind  of  printing  here,  sir. 
Have  you  the  manuscript  with  you  ?" 

"  The  what  uscript  ?"  exclaimed  the  owner  of  the  Red 
Eagle. 

"  Have  you  the  copy  of  what  you  want  printed  ?" 
said  we. 

"  Cus  the  copy,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  want  no  copy.  I 
want  my  horse  printed  jest  dry  so.     Can  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  we,  "  you  only  want  a  picture  of  your 
horse-?" 

«  That's  the  idee,  stranger,  exactly." 

As  we  now  comprehended  his  wants,  and  were  disposed 
to  humour  the  joke,  we  instructed  one  of  the  boys  to  take 
an  impression  of  a  large  cut  of  a  horse.  The  countenances 
of  our  customers  brightened  up  at  once,  while  they 
watched  the  operation  with  intense  interest. 

On  the  impression  of  the  cut  being  placed  before  them, 
they  both  exclaimed, 

"  Hey,  the  deuce,  that  ain't  like  old  Eagle.  That  won't 
never  do." 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?"  said  we.  "Is  it  not  a 
good  likeness  ?" 


PRINTING    A   HORSE.  .  161 

"  No,  sir,  not  by  a  ding'd  sight,"  said  the  man  with 
the  bad  cigar.  "  My  horse  is  a  bright  sorrel  horse,  with 
a  star  in  his  face  and  one  white  foot.  This  ere  horse's 
tail  is  jest  like  mine,  only  it's  black." 

Red  ink  would  remedy  the  defect  in  the  colour.  But  the 
white  foot  and  the  star  in  the  face  were  difficulties  not  so 
easily  to  be  got  over.  At  that  moment  one  of  our  printers, 
who  had  been  quietly  enjoying  the  joke,  came  to  our  aid. 
By  the  use  of  coloured  ink,  and  by  laying  a  piece  of  paper, 
cut  to  resemble  the  star  in  the  face,  on  the  cut,  and  ano- 
ther piece  on  the  fetlock,  we  soon  produced  Red  Eagle  as 
natural  as  life,  star,  white  foot,  switch  tail  and  all. 

The  party  were  in  ecstasies. 

"Ain't  that  him,  Bill! — ain't  that  old  Eagle  jest  as 
natural  as  pig-tracks !" 

"  Well,  drat  my  skin  !"  said  the  other,  regarding  the 
picture  with  amazement  depicted  in  every  feature — "  did 
you  ever  see  the  like  ?  Why,"  said  he,  holding  it  off  at 
arms'  length  and  shutting  one  eye,  "  I'd  know  that  was 
your  colt,  Bill,  if  I  was  to  see  it  any  whar  in  creation." 

"  Certain  you  would  ;  I'll  bet  the  old  mare  herself  would 
know  it  when  she  seed  it.  Talk  about  your  doggerytipes  ! 
Why,  that  chap  over  thar  couldn't  make  sich  a  picture  as 
that  to  save  his  gizzard.    How  much  is  to  pay,  stranger  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  replied  we.  M  We  don't  charge  for  print- 
ing horses." 

"  Nothing  !"  exclaimed  both  in  the  same  voice.  "  Dog- 
gerytipes over  thar  wanted  to  charge  three  dollars,  and  then 
couldn't  do  it.     Deuce  take  yer  doggerytipes,  for  me." 

After  pressing  us  to  be  compensated,  which  we  reso- 
lutely declined,  the  delighted  couple  left  the  office,  declaring 
that  they  wouldn't  give  one  printer  for  all  the  doggerytipe 
men  in  the  world. 
14* 


THE  WAY  OLD  BILL  WENT  OFF. 

Father  William,  or  as  he  was  familiarly  known,  «  Old 
Bill,"  was  an  early  settler  "  out  West."  He  left  the  old 
North  State  when  young,  and  settled  in  a  choice  spot, 
near  one  of  our  little  streams.  He  grew  and  prospered, 
and  not  many  years  after  he  was  married,  and  from  that 
time  than  him  a  more  influential  personage  could  not  be 
found.  He  was  Justice  of  the  Peace,  held  two  or  three 
posts  of  honour,  and  could  knock  daylight  out  of  a  turkey's 
eye  two  hundred  yards,  with  his  favourite  gun.  I  remem- 
ber several  of  his  exploits  in  shooting ;  and  one  of  them 
would  not  be  out  of  place  here.  I  heard  it  from  «  Old 
Bill"  himself.  He  had  a  fine  young  horse  once,  he  said, 
stolen  from  his  stable,  and  he  set  out  to  overtake  the 
thief,  taking  his  favourite  piece  along  for  company.  His 
horse  was  shod  different  from  any  other,  and  he  tracked 
him  to  a  thicket,  through  that,  and  for  two  days,  when  he 
lost  sight  of  his  track.  "  Here,"  said  Old  Bill,  «  I  began 
to  give  out;  but  I  knew  the  boys  would  laugh  at  me,  and 
I'd  never  hear  the  end  of  it  if  I  didn't  bring  him  back. 
Presently  I  heard  some  one  whistling  away  ahead  of  me, 
and  rode  fast  to  catch  up.  Turning  round  a  bunch  of 
vines,  who  should  I  see  but  the  man  on  my  horse ;  and 
just  at  that  time  he  looked  back  and  saw  me.  Then  we 
had  it.  He  spurred  and  I  kicked,  and  both  our  horses 
seemed  to  fly.  We  run  almost  <  mile  a  minit'  for  three 
hours,  and  neither  gained  an  inch.  He  was  running  for 
life,  and  I  for  my  horse.     But  I  couldn't  pull  up  to  him 

(162) 


THE   WAY   OLD   BILL   WENT   OFF.  163 

no  way,  for  he  was  on  the  best  horse.  I  had  my  gun, 
but  was  afraid  to  shoot.  I  found  I  couldn't  do  any  other 
way,  for  he  was  now  a  hundred  yards  ahead,  and  gain- 
ing. I  raised  my  gun,  let  it  fall  to  a  gentle  level,  and 
took  aim  at  the  saddle  girth.  It  cut  it  easy  one  hundred 
and  thirty  yards  !  and  the  rider  fell  to  the  ground  in  the 
saddle.  I  got  my  horse,  and  left  the  rascal  whipping  the 
saddle  alone.  I  never  heard  of  him  after  that.  Whether 
he  got  to  his  journey's  end,  I  never  heard,  but  i"  made  a 
good  shot,  and  took  my  horse  back  to  his  paster  /" 

"  Old  Bill,"  in  his  early  days,  went  through  many 
troubles,  and  often  thought  his  day  of  grace  was  nearly 
ended.  He  would  give  up  to  the  *  hyppo"  and  when  in 
one  of  his  ways,  he'd  keep  his  bed  for  weeks  at  a  time, 
trying  to  "  settle  up"  accounts,  but  he  couldn't  make  it 
out.  During  this  time  he  wouldn't  say  a  word,  but  "  Tm 
not  long  for  this  world ."  Fifteen  years  after  his  horse- 
race— he  was  getting  along  in  years  then — he  went  off. 
A  deep  snow  covered  the  ground,  and  he  could  not  ven- 
ture beyond  his  door.  He  curled  himself  up  in  bed,  and 
for  two  days  his  eyes  were  closed  and  he  spoke  not  a 
word.  His  couch  was  watched  in  silence — his  pulse 
quick — his  breathing  compressed  ;  but  the  fourth  evening 
he  came  to.  His  boys,  who  had  watched  by  his  side, 
were  now  relieved,  a  good  dinner  was  prepared,  "Old 
Bill"  eat  heartily,  and  after  a  social  drink  all  round,  the 
boys  were  for  a  hunt. 

"  You  musn't  go,  boys — I  begin  to  feel  like  going  off," 
said  Old  Bill,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Come,  daddy,  you're  well — never  was  better  in  your 
life  !"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

«  Better  not  go — you  shan't — you'll  find  me  dead  when 
you  get  back,"  continued  the  old  man,  returning  to  bed. 

"  But  we  must,  daddy.     WV11  make  a  big  fire  for  you, 


164  THE   WAY   OLD   BILL   WENT   OFF. 

and  we'll  have  a  fine  roast  when  we  return,"  said  the 
boys,  and  off  they  started. 

Old  Bill  got  mad  as  "tucker"  because  the  boys  left 
him,  and  jumped  right  out  of  bed,  put  on  his  thick  coat, 
went  out  to  the  wood-pile,  cut  a  small  cart-load  of  wood, 
carried  it  in  the  house,  and  raised  a  roasting  fire.  He  then 
warmed  his  feet  cleverly,  undressed,  jumped  back  in  bed, 
and  sent  over  for  'Squire  T.  to  write  his  will. 

The  'Squire  took  paper  and  started,  but  recollecting  a 
fresh  demijohn  of  the  best  French  brandy,  he  turned  back 
and  filled  a  quart  bottle  for  his  use  while  writing  the  will. 
He  found  Old  Bill  in  bed,  anxiously  awaiting  him. 

"  Well,  'Squire,  I'm  not  long  for  this  world  ;  I'm  sink- 
ing very  fast.  I  want  you  to  write  my  will,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  Sorry  to  find  you  so  low,  Uncle  Billy,"  said  the 
'Squire. 

"  I've  been  sinking  a  long  time,  but  I  kept  it  to  myself. 
I  don't  think  I  shall  live  till  morning." 

The  'Squire  put  on  his  "specks,"  unrolled  his  paper, 
and  proceeded  to  his  duty,  as  Old  Bill  thought.  He 
wrote  along,  stopping  now  and  then  to  ask  a  few  ques- 
tions. He  took  down  the  small  articles  first,  and  stopped 
to  take  a  liorn,  and  set  the  bottle  on  the  table. 

"  What's  that,  'Squire  ?"  asked  old  Bill,  sorter  bracin' 
himself  up. 

"  Nothin'  but  ink,  Uncle  Billy,"  said  the  'Squire. 

A  long  list  of  articles  was  put  on  paper,  and  the  'Squire 
turned  up  the  bottle  again.  He  smacked  his  lips,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  due  solemnity  to  finish  his  task.  This  done, 
he  wiped  his  eyes  and  commenced  reading. 

44  Draw  up  your  chair  a  little  closter,  'Squire." 

The  'Squire  did  as  requested,  and  read  aloud. 

"It's  all  right,  'Squire;  but  you've  not  got  all  the 
things  down  yet." 


TIIE   WAT   OLD   BILL   WENT   OFF.  165 

The'  Squire  stept  to  the  door,  and  Old  Bill  reached  over 
to  the  table  to  get  the  paper,  but  his  fancied  weakness 
prevented  him. 

"  I'm  nearly  gone  !  Oh,  them  naughty  boys !  I  knew 
I'd  die  before  they  got  back  ;  they'll  see  it  now  !" 

"  Well,  Uncle  Billy,"  said  the  'Squire,  «  wont  you  take 
a  glass  with  me  before  you  go  ?" 

"Take  a  what? — what's  that  ? — take  a  gl "said 

Old  Bill,  sharply. 

The  'Squire  knew  where  to  touch  him.  He  had  seen 
him  that  way  before.  He  took  a  notion  to  go  off  every 
year,  or  every  time  the  boys  didn't  go  the  way  he  wanted 
them.  Old  Bill  sat  up  in  the  bed  while  the  'Squire*  handed 
him  a  glass  of  brandy.  The  old  fellow  drank  it  off  like 
he  was  used  to  it. 

"  I'm  getting  better  now,  'Squire.  You  needn't  take 
down  them  other  articles  yet !" 

"  Suppose  you  get  up,  Uncle  Bill,  and  let  us  talk  over 
things,  before  you  go  /" 

Old  Bill's  "  dander  riz"  at  that,  and  he  with  it — almost 
mad  enough  to  whip  the  'Squire.  Both  of  them  took  seats 
by  the  fire;  the  table  between  them,  and  liquor  and 
sweetenin'  plenty.  Glass  after  glass  was  laid  in  the  shade, 
until  both  got  up  to  the  third  story.  The  boys,  mean- 
while, had  returned,  and  posted  an  old  fiddler  at  the 
chimney  corner,  and  then  stole  into  the  room. 

"I  tell  you  'Squire,  I've  got  the  best  gun  in ,"  he 

stopped  short  like  he  heard  something.  "  What's  that  ?" 
hollered  Old  Bill  as  the  sounds  came  faster.  "  Darned  if 
it  ain't  old  Josy  with  his  fiddle.  Won't  you  take  a  reel, 
Squire  ?"  The  'Squire  took  him  at  his  word.  The  boys 
joined  them,  and  about  two  hours  before  day,  the  two 
old  "  hosses"  were  so  mellow  that  they  had  to  be  carried 
to  bed.     And  that's  the  «  way  Old  Bill  went  offl" 


A  SLEEP-WALKING  INCIDENT. 

BY  AN  OLD  TENNESSEE  CORRESPONDENT. 

Many,  very  many  years  have  taken  theirturn  in  making 
me  older,  if  not  more  wise,  since  the  sunny  days  of  youth, 
when  there  was  not  a  sallow  leaf  on  life's  tree — when  all 
was  light  and  glow,  and  I  felt  but  the  present,  the  past 
unheeded,  and  the  future  unknown.  Oh,  joyous  fifteen, 
that  green  isle  now  dimly  seen  over  life's  waste  of  waters, 
how  we  look  and  long  to  tread  thy  shores  again !  But 
our  bark  of  life  is  speeding  away.  Small — smaller  still. 
The  dim  eye  of  age  can  see  thee  no  more — thou  art  "the 
past." 

Soon  after  this  hour  in  life's  morning,  I  was  sent  into 
the  upper  counties  of  this  State,  on  a  trip  of  business, 
and  which  I  contrived  to  make  a  trip  of  pleasure,  save  the 
«  scrape"  about  to  be  narrated. 

'  Night  had  overtaken  me  some  miles  short  of  my  in- 
tended stopping-place,  so  I  hailed  the  first  house  that  I 
came  to — a  large  square  cabin  sort  of  a  house,  with  but 
one  apartment,  which  served  as  "  parlour,  hall,  kitchen 
and  all," — to  know  if  I  could  obtain  shelter  for  myself 
and  horse?  A  stout,  iron-looking  little  old  man  answered 
the  summons,  and  after  resting  his  arms  and  chin  on  the 
gate  for  some  seconds,  he  said,  rather  deliberately,  that  he 
"  didn't  adzactly  know,  seeing  as  how  his  house  was  small, 
and  he  had  company  ;  but  seeing  as  how  I  was  a  be- 
•  nighted  boy,  he  reckoned  I  mought  jist  lite."  I  did  so, 
and  found  the  house  «  full  of  gals."      First,  there  was  the 

(166) 


A   SLEE1MVALKIX(J    INCIDENT.  167 

m  old  oman,"  of  course,  all  tidiness  and  check  apron, 
then  three  blooming  daughters,  all  shyness  and  blushing, 
a  married  daughter  and  her  yearling  child,  (these  were 
the  "  company"  alluded  to,)  and  then  there  was  that  ever- 
lasting, long-legged,  ubiquitous,  eighteen-year-old  boy, 
who  is  to  be  seen  at  all  houses  in  the  country,  with  that 
everlasting  tight  roundabout,  strained  across  his  shoulder 
blade,  which  seems  to  belong  inherently  to  all  chaps  of 
his  class,  and  he  patronized  mixed  socks  and  low-quar- 
tered shoes.  That  specimen  of  the  class  "  green  boy" 
deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice  at  my  hands,  if  I  had 
the  talent  and  room,  but  I  must  content  myself  by  merely 
saying  that  his  name  was  Tewalt,  and  that  I  will  never 
forget  him,  or  the  service  he  rendered  me  in  my  "  hour 
of  great  peril,"  although  for  a  time  he  annoyed  me  not  a 
few ;  and  I  may  hazard  the  assertion,  that  if  he  remem- 
bers all  that  was  gleaned  from  me  that  night,  and  all  that 
occurred  next  morning,  he  is  a  perfect  locomotive  ency- 
clopaedia of  useful  knowledge. 

Supper  passed  off,  during  which,  and  the  interval  pre- 
ceding bedtime,  I  was  subjected  to  a  categorical  exami- 
nation on  matters  in  general,  and  my  business  in  particu- 
lar, the  old  lady  acting  as  principal  inquisitor,  prompted 
in  whispers  by  the  girls.  They  listened  and  giggled,  the 
married  daughter  nursed  and  tried  to  look  matronly,  the 
dog  lay  at  the  corner  of  the  hearth,  and  dreamed  perhaps 
of  his  last  rabbit  chase  ;  the  cat  washed  her  face,  as  all 
well-ordered  cats  will  do,  after  a  hearty  saucer  of  milk, 
and  I,  poor  I,  wished  it  well  over.  I  counted  the  minutes 
as  indicated  by  a  twenty-four-hour  Yankee  clock,  which, 
nailed  against  the  log  wall,  ticked  off  the  time  most  me- 
thodically ;  and  surveyed  the  prospect  for  bed  room,  with 
deep  interest.  I  counted  the  beds  (three,  all  in  a  row, 
across  the  back  of  the  house,)  over  and  again  ;   then  I 


168  A   SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT. 

counted  noses,  and  found  an  awful  disproportion  between 
them  and  the  beds.  I  resolved  divers  arithmetical  pro- 
blems of  position  in  my  mind,  to  ascertain  if  possible 
how  to  class  said  noses,  so  as  to  violate  no  known  and 
acknowledged  law  of  usage  and  propriety,  in  sleeping 
matters  made  and  provided.  But  all  in  vain.  I  was 
beginning  to  entertain  serious  thoughts  in  relation  to  the 
stable-Joft,  when  the  old  lady  opened  the  first  act  by 
peremptorily  ordering  Tewalt  off  to  one  bed,  then  with 
the  help  of  the  girls  she  metamorphosed  another  into  a 
gigantic  "  shake-down"  before  the  fire ;  she  managed  to 
increase  its  dimensions  prodigiously,  until  it  attained  at 
least  the  size  of  an  ordinary  onion-bed.  This  encamp- 
ment, as  I  said,  was  spread  before  the  fire,  and  was  for 
the  benefit  of  the  girls,  married  and  single,  rank  and  file. 
Now  my  mind  was  at  rest ;  they  (the  girls),  baby  and  all, 
were  safely  disposed  of,  and  the  horrid  suspicion  had 
passed  away  that  I  might  have  to  sleep  "  spoon  fashion" 
with  perhaps  three,  and  that  fat  baby  at  the  foot.  I  now 
saw  as  clearly  through  the  old  lady's  sagacious  arrange- 
ments as  if  they  had  been  the  result  of  the  aforesaid  abor- 
tive mathematical  calculations.  Tewalt  and  myself  were 
to  have  one  bed,  and  the  old  folks  the  other ;  to  my  unso- 
phisticated boyhood,  this  arrangement  was  the  best  that 
possibly  could  be  made  under  the  circumstances.  The 
old  lady,  considerate  old  soul,  hung  a  quilt  over  two 
chairs,  as  a  kind  of  battery  for  me  to  undress  behind,  and 
cautioning  the  two  girls  in  an  undertone  not  to  look,  she 
told  me  I  might  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  I  liked.  I,  nothing 
loth,  obeyed  the  intimation,  and  in  spite  of  the  stray  eye- 
shots fired  at  me  from  the  region  of  the  fire-place,  got 
safely  to  bed,  and  was  soon  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

The  first  thing  I  remember,  I  felt  some  one  inflicting 
furious  digs  in  my  side ;  it  struck  my  dreaming  imagina- 


A   SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT.  169 

tion  that  it  was  the  aforesaid  Tewalt,  who  wanted  some 
incomprehensible  point  in  the  evening's  conversation  elu- 
cidated, so  I  moved  not.  Soon  I  saw  him  standing  over 
me,  his  legs  at  least  sixty  feet  long,  and  kicking  me  in 
the  ribs  at  a  smashing  rate,  with  a  foot  about  the  size  of  a 
steamboat's  yawl.  Then  he  changed  and  had  on  petti- 
coats of  the  proportions  of  a  circus  tent,  with  a  huge  gig- 
top  on  for  a  night- cap,  and  nursing  the  Yankee  clock  for 
a  baby,  and  every  blow  it  struck  resembled  a  blast  Irom 
a  pair  of  infantile  lungs  highly  inflated !  Anon,  he  be- 
came a  gigantic  pair  of  fire-tongs,  with  red-hot  feet,  and 
he  pinched  me  on  the  arm  until  it  scizzed  again !  This 
awoke  me,  sure  enough,  and  I  found  the  pinching  still 
going  on  at  about  the  rate  of  120  to  the  minute. 

"  Hello,  old  fellow !"  says  I,  "  that'll  do.  What  in  the 
name  of  the  Lunatic  Asylum  do  you  want  ?" 

"  It  aint  no  old  feller,  an  you  may  thank  gracious  good- 
ness that  it  aint ;  but  you  jist  git  rite  up  an  mosey,  afore 
I  calls  the  old  feller!" 

This  was  spoken  close  to  one  ear  in  a  good  round 
whisper,  while  a  suppressed  sort  of  giggling  appeared  to 
originate  about  a  foot  from  the  other.  I  lay  perfectly  still, 
and  tried  to  arouse  my  faculties  as  to  the  cause  of  all  this 
rumpus.  I  then  ventured  to  raise  my  head  a  fraction 
and  saw  that  the  fire  was  not  in  the  same  place  that  it 
occupied  when  I  went  to  bed.  Had  Tewalt  turned  my 
bed  round  by  the  furious  kicks  abovenamed  ?  No,  that 
must  have  been  a  dream,  and  I  was  awake  now — as  wide 
as  ever. you  saw  a  cat,  with  all  the  dogs  in  the  neighbour- 
hood at  the  foot  of  the  apple-tree,  and  she  on  the  first 
limb.  I  listened,  and  the  blessed  old  clock  had  moved 
towards  another  point  of  the  compass,  and  was  boxing 
away  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  disturb  its  equani- 
mity ;  the  old  man's  snoring,  too,  had  partaken  of  this  gen- 
15 


170  A   SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT. 

eral  first- day- of- May  excitement,  and,  like  the  clock  and 
the  fire,  had  changed  its  quarters.  Strange,  that,  but 
may  be  I  had  only  heard  the  echo  on  the  wall.  But  the 
old  man  being  sedate,  it  was  not  presumable  that  he 
would  patronize  other  than  a  becoming  and  sedate  saore, 
and  would  tolerate  no  other,  however  sonorous,  nor  be 
guilty  of  playing  such  fantastic  tricks  before a  stran- 
ger !  And  the  heavy  breathing  of  Tewalt,  too,  had  retired 
to  a  respectful  distance  in  the  rear,  but  it  was  his  breath- 
ing, .and  no  mistake;  I  was  familiar  with  the  sound. 
Well,  what  was  the  matter?  Was  I  tight?  No,  I  had 
drank  nothing.  Was  I  crazy  ?  No,  for  I  was  fully  aware 
of  everything,  save  that  my  ideas  of  relative  position  had 
become  confoundedly  mystified. 

"  I  say,  cuss  your  sassey  little  picter,  are  you  gwine  to 
leave  afore  I  calls  dad,  for  he'll  jist  give  you  goss  in  a 
minit,  little  hoss,  and  we  gals  couldn't  save  your  cussed 
ternal  scalp  if  we  wanted  tu !  Say,  ar  ye  gwine,  durn 
yer  imperdence !" 

Oh,  my  stars !  the  awful  truth  flashed  on  my  mind  in 
an  instant.  I  had  got  in  bed  with  the  girls,  and  would 
soon  be  a  lost  boy,  barrin'  better  luck  than  John  Tyler 
ever  had.  But  my  presence  of  mind  came  to  my  aid,  so 
I  replied  to  this  whispered  tirade  by  giving  a  heavy  groan- 
ing sort  of  snore,  and  turning  over  from  my  tormentor,  I 
reconnoitred  my  location  by  throwing  out  first  an  arm  and 
then  a  leg.  The  arm  lit  across  the  heaving  warm  breast 
of  somebody  wTith  considerable  muscular  energy,  for  quick 
as  light  it  was  seized,  and  no  rocket  ever  flewT  with  more 
of  a  "  vim,"  than  it  did  from  its  soft  resting  place,  and  lit 
smack  across  the  face  of  my  pinching  friend,  the  married 
daughter,  who  was  unmasked  by  this  move  of  her  sister, 
for  in  its  descent  it  chanced  a'lso  to  hit  the  "  yearling"  a 
wipe  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  nose,  and  such  a  yell 


A   SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT.  171 

as  followed,  or  rather  such  a  series  of  yells,  I  never  before 
heard.  My  leg,  I  suppose,  had  lit  upon  forbidden  ground 
also,  for  it  followed  the  arm  with  no  bad  consequences, 
only  a  wicked  sort  of  a  dig  in  my  side,  which  I  thought 
might  be  inflicted  with  the  naked  elbow ;  this  was  intend- 
ed as  a  kind  of  interest  on  the  operation,  given  in  "  have- 
the-last-lick"  spirit  of  mind. 

Well,  after  calculating  the  probable  location  of  my  own 
oed,  I  made  one  bound,  which  cleared  me  of  the  enemy's 
camp,  and  I  lit  alongside  of  Tewalt. 

"  Well,  durn  your  carcass,"  says  he,  you  wanted  to 
sleep  warm,  did  you,  so  you  jist  goes  atween  the  gals ! 
They  warmed  ye,  didn't  they  ?  drat  your  picter !  Ha ! 
ha!  ha!     Well,  now,  if  that  aint  hot,  I'm  d-a-r-n-e-d!" 

A  running-fire  of  conversation  was  kept  up  between 
the  shake-down  and  the  old  folks'  bed  for  some  time,  but 
as  it  was  not  of  a  very  complimentary  nature,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  I  will  not  inflict  on  the  reader  what  both  pained 
and  scared  me.  After  rolling  about  for  some  time  in  a  rather 
perturbed  state  of  mind,  I  fell  asleep,  and  was  awoke  by 
the  old  lady  to  come  to  breakfast.  Tewalt  was  gone,  I 
knew  not  where,  the  shake-down  had  vanished,  and  things 
looked  tidy  and  clean. 

WThen  we  set  up  to  breakfast  J  felt  like  a  criminal,  and 
I  know  that  I  looked  like  one  ;  the  girls  blushed,  the  mar- 
ried one  was  serious,  the  old  lady  seemed  pious,  and  the 
old  man  looked  devilish  ;  so  you  may  guess  how  I  relished 
my  breakfast.  Not  a  word  did  I  say  that  I  could  help, 
and  the  old  lady's  disposition  of  the  previous  evening  to 
ask  questions  seemed  to  have  vanished,  so  I  was  not 
interrupted  in  my  taciturnity. 

The  meal  over,  I  asked  the  old  man  the  amount  of  my 
bill.  "  I  don't  charge  ye  a  cent !"  This  was  said  in  a 
tone  and  manner  that  I  neither  liked  nor  understood  ;  so 


172  A    SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT. 

as  my  horse  was  at  the  gate,  with  Tewalt  holding  the  bridle, 
I  turned  round  to  bid  the  girls  "  good-morning,"  and 
there  they  were,  holding  up  the  log  that  served  for  a 
mantle-board  with  their  foreheads,  and  seemed  to  be  in 
tears.  This  mystified  me  more  than  ever  ;  the  old  man 
had  taken  down  an  old  black  snakish-looking  rifle,  and 
was  changing  the  priming.  I  inquired  if  he  was  going 
to  hunt  ?  "Y-a-s,"  he  drawled  out  ;  "I'm  agwine  to 
kill  a  mink  what's  been  among  my  pullets !"  Well,  I 
didn't  like  that,  either ;  so,  without  more  ceremony,  I 
started  to  the  horse,  and  as  I  left  the  door,  I  heard  one  of 
the  girls  (a  sweet,  blue-eyed  damsel  she  was,  too,)  and 
the  one  who  had  converted  my  arm  into  a  projectile  with 
such  dire  effect  the  night  before,  say,  "  Oh,  daddy,  now 
don't;  we  all  know  he  was  asleep,  poor  little  fellow! 
Don't,  daddy,  don't!" 

The  old  scoundrel  growled  a  reply  which  I  did  not  hear, 
and  followed  me. 

When  I  reached  my  horse,  I  mounted,  and  Tewalt,  who 
stood  beyond  the  horse,  drew  from  the  leg  of  his  breeches, 
a  long,  keen  hickory,  and  stealthily  gave  it  to  me,  saying  : 

"  Don't  hold  it  so,  dad  '11  see  it,  and  when  ye  get  the 
word,  jist  gin  that  horse  of  yourn  hot  darnation  about  his 
tail,  or  may  be  you  won't  ride  long  if  ye  don't." 

He  was  cut  short  in  his  charitable  speech  by  the  ap- 
proach of  the  old  he  shark,  gun  in  hand. 

"  Nowr,  sir,"  says  he,  «  ye  come  here  benighted,  didn't 
ye  r 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  submissively. 

"I  took  ye  in  like  a  gentle??itf7i,  didn't  I?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  you  did,  and  I  am " 

"  Stop  !  that  ain't  the  pint.  I  fed  you  an  your  horse  on 
the  best  I  had,  didn't  I  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  I,  «  and  I  am  willing " 


A   SLEEIMVALKING    INCIDENT.  173 

"  Stop  !  that  ain't  the  pint.  I  give  you  a  good  bed  to 
sleep  on,  didn't  I?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said,  "you  did  all " 

U  Stop  !  that  abiH  tlie  pint.  Ye  got  your  breakfast, 
didn't  ye  ?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  My  boy  and  gals  treated  you  like  a  gentleman, 
didn't  they?" 

I  nodded  again. 

«  Well,  I've  refused  yer  money,  hain't  I  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  wish  you  would " 

"  Stop  !  that  ain't  the  pint ;  but  this  is  the  jrint!"  and 
the  fire  simmered  in  his  eyes  like  molten  iron  in  glass 
globes ;  all  his  forced  calmness  had  left  him,  and  he 
was  an  old  Tiger  all  over.  «  You've  eat  my  bread — yer 
hoss  eat  my  corn — ye  smoked  my  pipe — ye  had  my  bed, 
an  all  fur  nuthin — an  then  ye  wanted  to  circumvent,  not 
one,  but  all  my  gals,  married  and  single,  at  one  bite, 
darn  yer  little  snakish  gizzard ;  and  now  we'll  setttle, 
or  I  canH  draw  a  bead  !  I  never  vierlates  the  law  of  hors- 
pitality  at  this  house,  nuron  my  grit,  so  you  see  that  cross- 
fence,  down  thar  ?"  (it  was  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  off.) 

I  barely  nodded  my  head,  and  in  looking,  my  eye 
caught  the  form  of  Tewalt  and  the  girl  with  the  blue  eyes, 
behind  the  stable,  busily  enacting  a  piece  of  pantomime, 
evidently  for  my  benefit.  Tewalt  gave  an  imaginary  horse 
an  awful  imaginary  thrashing,  leaning  forward,  and  oc- 
casionally stealing  a  look  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  he 
expected  to  see  the  devil.  She  took  very  deliberate  aim 
at  him  with  a  corn  stalk,  and  then  poked  him  between  the 
shoulder-blades  with  it,  in  no  very  slight  manner. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  old  he,  "  when  I  give  you  the 
word,  you  may  start,  an  if  ye  start  too  soon,  I'll  spile  yei 
15* 


174  A   SLEEP-WALKING   INCIDENT. 

hide  with  my  own  grit,  an  I  don't  want  to  do  that !  I  say, 
when  I  give  the  word  you  may  go,  an  perhaps  you'd  use 
them  long  boot  heels  of  yourn  some,  fur  when  you  start 
so  do  I,  an  when  J  gets  to  that  fence — mind,  it's  my  line, 
then  we  are  off  my  grit ;  Pmjist  agwine  to  shute  you,  jist 
like  a  cussed  mink  fur  getting  among  my  hens  !  I'll  only 
spile  ye  with  two  holes,  one  behind,  an  t'other  before, 
jist  sixty-three  to  the  pound,  adzactly,  and  yer  kin  can't 
say  I  hurt  ye  on  my  land  !" 

He  began  to  hitch  up  his  breeches  with  his  disengaged 
hand,  and  laid  off  his  hat,  so  I  ventured  to  ask — more 
dead  than  alive — what  the  "  word"  would  be  ? 

"  It'll  be  <  the  old  quarter  tackey  word.'  I'll  ax  ye  if 
yer  ready,  an  when  ye  ar,  jist  say  <  go!'  If  ye  ain't,  say 
£  no,'  but  mind  yer  dont  balk  often,  or  I  mite  git  to  ravin 
an  fittin,  and  go  off  afore  you  want  me  to,  an  then  ye'll 
be  dead-heat  sartin!" 

During  this  preliminary  I  was  gently  plying  my  horse 
on  the  offside  with  my  heel  and  hickory,  to  stir  him  up  a 
little.  I  had  ridden  a  few  quarter  races  in  my  time,  and 
was  pretty  well  up  to  the  dodge.  The  old  villain  asked, 
between  his  set  teeth,  «  ar  ye  ready  ?"  I  shouted  "  go !" 
and  away  we  went.  My  hickory  now  fell  ten  times  faster 
on  the  real  horse  than  Tewalt's  did  on  the  imaginary  one, 
and  as  soon  as  the  old  cuss  heard  it  he  bawled  out  to  his 
boy,  «  Oh,  dat  rat  yer  heart,  I  say  ;  I'll  bore  a  hole  in  you, 
when  I  get  to  ye  !" 

I  ventured  to  turn  my  head  and  take  a  look  at  him  ;  he 
had  foamed  at  the  mouth  until  it  adorned  each  corner  like 
a  pair  of  whiskers,  made  of  whipped  eggs,  and  he  was 
running  some,  I  tell  you  !  My  horse,  perfectly  astounded 
at  such  unusual  treatment,  fairly  flew  ;  the  panels  of  fence 
looked  like  a  continuous  stripe  along  the  road,  and  the 
wind  whistled  a  merry  jig  in  my  listening  ears.     Spang! 


A   SLEEP-WALKING    INCIDENT.  175 

whiz — phit !  the  ball  had  sped,  and  it  had  missed!  I  saw 
it  tear  the  bark  from  a  hickory,  a  few  yards  ahead.  Oh, 
how  fresh  and  warm  the  blood  rushed  back  around  my 
heart!  I  felt  safe,  mischievous,  and  glad,  and  began  to 
rein  up  my  horse.  When  I  succeeded  in  doing  so,  I 
wheeled  him  in  the  road  to  reconnoitre.  There  stood  the 
old  Tiger,  leaning  on  the  muzzle  of  his  gun,  as  if  in  a 
brown  study  ;  so  I  resolved  to  give  him  a  parting  "  bliz- 
zard." I  shouted,  "  Hello,  old  cock;  you  have  good 
victuals  and  a  fine  family,  your  galls  in  particular;  but  I 
would  not  give  a  button  for  your  gun  or  your  temper ! 
You  can't  shoot  for  sour  owl  bait !  Tell  the  girls  c  good- 
bye,' and  the  same  to  you,  you  old  scatter-gun!" 

He  began  to  re-load  furiously,  so  I  whistled  to  my  horse, 
and  left  those  parts — for  ever,  I  hope.  I  have  often 
wondered  since,  what  he  did  do  to  poor  Tewalt,  for 
smuggling  the  hickory  which  enabled  me  to  tell  this 
story. 


THE  LAST  BLOODY  DUEL  FOUGHT  IN  OHIO. 

Our  ears,  since  war  began,  have  become  so  accustomed 
to  the  recitals  of  deeds  of  blood,  that  I  fancy  the  senses 
of  my  readers  will  not  be  shocked  by  my  account  of  the 
last  duel  fought  in  Ohio — which  came  off  in  1834.  Ex- 
cepting some  half  dozen  instances,  where  the  citizens  of 
Ohio,  living  on  the  border  of  the  State,  have  gone  over  the 
river  into  Kentucky,  and  taken  a  crack  or  two  at  each 
other,  the  case  I  am  about  to  speak  of,  was  positively  the 
last,  where  Buckeyes  have  gone  out  to  redress  their  griev- 
ances by  single  combat. 

It  is  true,  as  the  Vermonter  said,  "  if  you  give  a  Buckeye 
the  lie,  or  the  likes  o'  that,  he  will,  in  a  manner,  knock 
you  right  deown,  and  fall  to  hurtin'  on  you ;  and  not  dew 
as  they  dew  in  Varmont,  where,  if  a  man  calls  you  a  liar 
you  set  right  deown  and  argy  it  out  of  him."  Yet  Buck- 
eyes do  not  now-a-days  shoot  one  another,  although  they 
will  fight  the  enemies  of  their  country,  until  their  hides 
cannot  hold  shucks  for  the  bullet  holes.    But  about  the  duel. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  named,  a  party  of  some 
twenty  "good  fellows"  assembled,  by  the  invitation  of  Mr. 
W.  (a  great  favourite  of  their's,)  at  the  Pearl  Street  House, 
Cincinnati.  W.  was  about  to  u  pull  up  stakes"  and 
locate  in  a  neighbouring  city  ;  and  the  expected  separa- 
tion from  his  old  cronies,  induced  him  to  invite  them,  on 
the  night  of  his  departure,  to  join  him  in  zfew  bottles  of 
wine.     Such  things  were    more  common  in  those  days 

(176) 


THE   LAST   BLOODY   DUEL   FOUOITT   IN    OHIO.       177 

than  since  the  advent  of  Madam  Temperance  into  this, 
then  wicked  world. 

The  invitations  went  out,  and,  strange  to  say,  not  a 
single  "  regret"  was  sent  in  ;  but  all  came.  Toasts  were 
drank — songs  were  sung — speeches  got  off,  and  the  «  Old 
Pearl"  fairly  rung  again  with  the  revellings  in  its  halls. 
In  spite  of  all,  the  night  would  roll  on.  Three  o'clock 
came,  and  the  thundering  of  heavy  wheels  over  the  pave- 
ment told  of  the  approach  of  the  stage  that  was  to  take 
away  "the  favourite." 

The  stage-agent  opened  the  door  of  the  dining-hall,  and 
called  for  "  the  passenger."  Here  was  a  scene  !  All  had 
evidently  been  joyful  overmuch,  and  a  proportionate 
relaxation  had  succeeded.  Some,  incapable  of  rising  or 
speaking,  leaned  back  in  their  arm-chairs,  and  their  eyes 
lolled  out  upon  their  wine-gorged  cheeks,  looking  like  so 
many  boiled  onions  stuck  upon  sun-flowers  ;  while  others, 
who  carried  lesser  sized  "  turkies,"  were  toddling  about 
the  room  in  groups  of  two  and  upwards,  muttering 
delightful  sentiments,  and  swearing  that  their  friendship 
to  each  other  should  last  as  long  as  it  should  please  God 
to  let  them  live. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  W ?"  called  out  the  agent. 

"N-n-not  here,  Mr.  C-c-campbell,"  answered  some 
one  ; — "  he's  d-dead  ! — b-b-been  dead  t-two  hours!" 

"  Dead  !    Great  God  !  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Ay,  dead  ! — stepped  out! — d-d-dead  as  Tecumseh  !" 

Mr.  C,  now  beginning  to  comprehend  that  life  was  not 
quite  extinct,  added — 

"  W is  to  go  in  the  stage — and  it  is  now  waiting 

for  him  at  the  door." 

"Stage?  All  the  world's  a  stage!  Ha,  ha! — good. 
Yip  !  Yip  !  Ypsylanti !  C-c-campbell,  my  dear  fellow,  tell 
the  g-g-gentleman  that  steers  your  old  w-w-wagon,  to  haul 


tT8        TITE    LAST    BLOODY    DUEL    FOUGHT    IX    OHIO. 

in  that  plank — er-cr-erack  on  the  steam — ami  let  her 
r-r-rip,  for  \V can't  go  f" 

•  •  But  he  must  go,     Where  is  be?*' 

<<  Well,  if  he  m~m~must  go,  and  you  if///  see  him.  there 
he  is!  (pointing  under  the  table),  down  there  among  the 

5t  off  er-eroekery.  D-d-d — a  it,  see  how  he  hugs  the 
brands,     S-s-sensible  to  the  last1/" 

Mr.  C.  looked  under  the  table,  and  there  lay  W.  snor- 
ing", and  holding  in  his  embrace  a  pair  of  ehampaigne 
bottles  as  closely  as  a  young  mother  would  clasp  her 
twinned  babes.  So  pulling  him  out  by  the  heels,  C.  righted 
him  up,  and  partly  dragging,  partly  lifting  him,  rolled 
-  the  favourite"  into  the  coach.      Crack  went  the  whip — 

the  horses  plunged  forward,  and  whirled  W away 

from  his  companions,  without  even  a  parting  tear.  In  the 
mean  time  they  had  all  lain  down  in  the  supper-room  to 
rest,  singing — 

■•  We  wer.:  go  home  till  morning — till  broad  dayfighl  appears." 

W.,  with  some  difficulty,  at  last  gotjfcoed  in  the  coach, 
and  fell  into  a  doze.  Had  lie  been  wakeful,  he  would 
probably  have  discovered  that  the  landlord  had,  in  a  joke, 
placed  in  the  side  pockets  oi  his  overcoat  a  bottle  o(  good 
old  Bourbon  whiskey,  and  one  of  -  Cognac.'1 

W.'s  seat  was  on  tire  middle  bench  of  the  coach,  and 
directly  in  front,  sat  a  six-and-a-half  foot  Tennesseean. 
W.  got  into  a  habit  of  pitching  forward,  and  would  some- 
times bring  up  plump  against  the  abdomen  of  his  vis-a-vis. 
Several  times  the  Tennesseean  j^assed.  it  over,  and  actu- 
ally assisted  W.  in  righting  himself  up  into  his  seat.  Pre- 
sently a  sudden  jolt  o\  the  vehicle  threw  ^  the  favour;: 
upon  the  breast  of  the  Tennesseean,  with  a  tremendous  con- 
cussion. The  six-and-a-half  footer  became  wrathy,  and 
exclaimed — 


THE   LAST   BLOODY   DUEL   FOUGHT   IN   Oil  10.       179 

"  Stranger,  if  you  tumble  on  me  again,  in  tlial  way,  I'll 
send  you  over  to  t'other  end  of  this  mill-hopper,  pretty 
(1 — n  quick  !" 

"  N-n-not  on  to  the  f-f-femenincs  on  the  back  seal,  I 
t-t-trust,  old  Stuh-and-twist." 

Old  "  Stul>-and-twist,"  as  W.  called  him,  made  no 
reply;  but  after  a  while  down  came  W.  again  upon  him, 
when  he  pushed  him  roughly  back,  and  said  — 

"  !>y  G — d,  sir,  I  tell  you — meaning  no  disresped  to 
the  ladies — that  if  you  don't  keep  your  seat,  I'll  split  you 
plum  in  two !" 

"  Sp-sp-split  me  in  two,  eh  ?  Let  me  inform  you  mat 
I  am  a  g-g-gentleman  and  never  carry  the  d^d-deadlies. 
But  if  I  f-f-find  you  are  a  g-g-gentleman,  I'll  attend  to 
your  case  in  the  morning,  about  the  b-b-break  o'  day !" 

«  Very  well,  sir  ;  I'll  be  tharV 

Here  "  the  favourite,"  by  request,  changed  his  seat  to 
one  that  proved  more  stationary,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

Morning  came,  and  the  sudden  stopping  of  the  coach 
at  a  watering-place  aroused  W.  from  his  sleep.  I  le  awoke 
spitting  little  wads  of  cotton,  his  mouth  being  as  dry  and 
dusty  as  Broadway  in  fly-time,  and,  jumping  out,  "  broke" 
for  the  well.  Before  he  reached  it,  he  looked  back  and 
saw  one  leg  of  the  Tennesseean  coming  out  of  the  Coach. 
Suddenly  the  recollection  of  the  challenge  he  had  given 
flashed  upon  his  mind,  and  the  leg  then  appeared  to  him 
to  be  about  fourteen  feet  long. 

"  Now  I  ttm  in  a  fix,"  said  he  to  himself. 

"Well,  stranger,"  said  the  Tennesseean,  advancing, 
"  how  do  you  feel  by  this  time  ?" 

"Tolerably  well,"  replied  W.  ;  "but  I  should  like 
some  apology  for  your  insult  to  me  last  night." 

"  No  apology  from  me,  sir ;  not  a  word.  You  proposed 
to  fight  me  this  morning,  and  I  am  here!" 


180       THE   LAST   BLOODY   DUEL    FOUGHT   IX    OHIO. 

"Very  well,  sir,  but  I  have  no  weapons." 

"  Here — take  this,"  said  the  Tennesseean — showing 
him  a  bowie  knife — "  these  are  enough  for  me" — holding 
out  his  clenched  fist.  «  You  go  to  that  fence — I  will 
remain  here,  and  wen  you  say  <  ready,'  we  will  advance 
at  pleasure,  and  each  take  his  chance  for  the  result." 

»  Agreed,"  said  W.  And  he  went  to  his  post.  While 
taking  off  his  overcoat  he  discovered  the  bottles  in  his 
pockets,  and  suspecting  what  might  be  in  them,  called 
out  to  his  antagonist  to  renew  negotiations  in  these 
words : 

"  I  find,  sir,  I  have  a  pair  of  loaded  pistols  in  my 
pockets,  and  now  propose  that  you  take  your  choice :  this 
will  place  us  more  on  an  equal  footing,"  advancing  at  the 
same  time  with  the  muzzles  forward. 

The  Tennesseean  nodded  assent,  and  advanced  also, 
evidently  admiring  the  Buckey's  sense  of  chivalry.  It 
was  yet  so  early  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  that  they 
drew  very  near  each  other  before  the  Tennesseean  dis- 
covered the  shape  of  the  pistols.  When  he  did  so  a  play- 
ful smile  lit  up  his  countenance  ;  but  he  spoke  not  a  word 
until  he  had  deliberately  drawn  their  corks  and  applied 
each  bottle  to  his  smeller ;  when  he  quietly  remarked  : 

"  If  this  is  the  sort  of  a  man  you  are,  I  think  I'll  take 
a  little  of  the  <  Old  Bourbon.'  " 

The  two  then  exchanged  a  "  shot  in  the  neck,"  and 
were  that  day  the  life  of  the  coach.  And  thus  terminated 
the  last  meeting  on  the  «  field  of  honour"  that  ever  came 
off  in  the  "Bonnie  Buckeye  State." 


ANECDOTES  OF  WESTERN  TRAVEL. 

After  a  long  and  fatiguing  day's  ride  over  the  prairies 
of  Wisconsin  in  the  summer  of  184-,  Judge  D***,  upon 
his  semi-annual  circuit  through  the  Territory,  arrived  at  a 
farm  house  upon  the  borders  of  a  large  prairie,  where  he 
proposed  passing  the  night.  The  proprietor  of  the  estab- 
lishment was  absent,  and  his  worthy  spouse  was  left  to 
do  the  honours  of  the  house  to  such  travellers  as  were 
occasionally  forced  to'  put  up  with  the  scanty  accommo- 
dations she  couVj^oiTer. 

Settlers  were  far  apart  in  those  days,  and  she  was  cer- 
tain to  pVt  a  call  from  all  whom  night  happened  to  over- 
take \fi  her  vicinity.  Mammy  R****  was  a  native  of  the 
"  tucker  State,"  and  inherited  many  of  the  peculiarities 
°Sf  the  primitive  settlers.  She  scorned  the  luxuries  and 
superfluities  of  the  pampered  matrons  of  the  older  states. 
Her  domestic  arrangements  were  such  as  to  require  the 
least  amount  of  labour  or  care  from  her.  There  were  no 
sofas,  carpets,  or  other  useless  trumpery  about  her  pre- 
mises. Her  wants  were  few  and  easily  satisfied.  She 
cared  not  what  was  the  latest  style  of  hat  or  dress  ;  and 
as  for  shoes  and  stockings,  they  were  regarded  by  her  with 
the  most  <<  lofty  despise."  She  had  never  cramped  her 
understanding  with  any  such  effeminate  fluency.  She 
stood  five  feet  eleven  without  shoes  and  stockings  ;  her 
hair,  which  was  the  colour  of  a  red  fox  (in  the  spring), 
was  allowed  to  fall  loosely  about  her  brown  shoulders, 
very  much  to  the  annoyance  of  her  guests,  who  often 
16  (181) 


182  ANECDOTES    0*    WBSTEKB    IEAVEL. 

fancied  they  saw  the  ends  of  her  locks  making  fantastic 
gyrations  in  the  dish  intended  for  their  repast.  The  old 
woman  was  purely  democratic  in  her  domestic  economy. 
She  permitted  her  pi°:s,  chickens,  and  all  other  live  stock, 
to  have  free  ingress  to  her  house,  and  it  was  sometimes 
difficult,  in  a  general  melee  of  pigs,  calves,  and  half-naked 
children,  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  All  appeared 
to  possess  an  equal  share  in  her  good  graces.  She  was 
assisted  in  her  menage  by  a  lank,  half-starved  sucker, 
who  officiated,  in  the  absence  of  her  lord,  as  major  domo, 
barkeeper,  and  hostler. 

As  the  Judge  drove  up  to  the  door,  the  old  woman  came 
out  and  said — 

"  Strang-ger.  will  ve  tell  me  whar  ver  mought  be  gowin 
to  put  up,  or  prehaps  you  nioughtiT  t  •'  ' 

••  Yes,  my  dear  madam,  I  fear  we  shall  be  under  the 
necessity  of  throwing  ourselves  upon  your  hospitality  for 
the  night.  I  trust  you  will  not  put  yourself  to  a\ny  incon- 
venience on  our  account,  as  any  little  spare  corl?-er  )'ou 
may  be  so  kind  as  to  allow  us.  will  suffice  to  make  us\Per" 
fectly  snug  and  comfortable.  I  hope,  madam,  your  heai^Q 
has  been  very  good  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you"' 
last :  and  how  are  all  the  little  ones  ?  Ah,  I  see  they  are 
looking  superbly !  Come  here,  my  little  man,  and  give 
me  a  kiss." 

The  mammy  twisted  her  face  into  what  she  intended 
lor  a  smile,  at  this  gracious  salutation  :  but  she  looked 
more  as  if  she  was  attempting  Daw  Crockett's  feat  of 
grinning  the  bark  off  a  white  oak,  while  she  replied — 
"  Wall,  old  hoss,  trot  along  into  the  cabin,  and  I'll  yell 
for  Slicker  to  tote  your  hanimals  to  the  crib." 

At  this  she  set  up  a  scream  that  would  not  have  dis- 
graced the  lungs  of  a  Sioux  warrior. 

Sucker  soon  made  his   appearance,  and  assisted   the 


AWBCDOTEfl   OF   WB8TKRS   TRAYRL.  188 

Judge's  servant  to  attend  to  the  hones.  Upon  entering 
the  cabin,  and  inquiring  if  they  could  bare  supper,  he 

was  told  that  such  a  luxury  as  meat  had  not  been  seen  in 
their  larder  for  several  weeks  ;  that  corn  dod  ad  milk 

were  the  best  fixings  the  house  afforded,  and  these  were 

very  scarce.  Fortunately  for  the  Judge,  he  had  provided 
himself  with  a  ham  to  meet  such  contingencies  before  he 
left   home.      This  was  soon  drawn  from   his  pannier,  and 

placed  in  the  hands  of  Mammy,  to  be  cooked  for  supper. 

A  very  savory  odour,  issuing  from  the  frying  pan,  soon 

diffused  itself  throughout  the  cabin,  and  found  its  way 

through  the  chinks  of  the  log*  to  the  olfactories  of  the 
Sucker  at  the  stables,  and  made  known  to  him  the  fact 
that  a  different  kind  of  food  was  preparing  from  what  he 
had  seen  for  a  long  time.  \\<-  soon  found  himself  seated 
near  the  fire,  and  cast,  very  significant  and  approving 
glances  at  the  meat  as  it  hissed,  and  turned  over  the  hot 
eoals  of  the  mammy's  fire. 

Supper  was,  in  due  course  of  time,  upon  the  table,  and 
the  old  woman  announced  the  welcome  intelligence  by 
Saying — "  .Men,  haul  up!" 

Before  the  Judge  clearly  comprehended  this  singular 
summons,  the  sucker  was  seated  near  die  plate  of  ham, 
had  Commenced  operations  on  the  largest  slice,  and  as 
the  Judge  drew  his  chair  to  the  table,  he  said  — 

"  Stranger,  if  that,  thar bacon  aint  soar,  may  J  be  cho 
to  death  with  a  raw  corn  dodger.      Don't  be  bashful,  boss, 
make  a  dash  and  go  ahead  ;  don't,  be-  backward  bout  goin 
f;.r'ard!" 

The  Judge  was  so  much  astonished  at  the  impudence 

of  the  fellow,  that  he  could  say  nothing,  but  looked  on  in 
amazement.  The  sucker  laid  in  lustily — slier.-  after  slice 
disappeared  through  his  voracious  jaws,  until  only  one 
piece  remained  upon  the  platter.     As  bacon  was  rather 


184  ANECDOTES   OF   WESTERN   TRAVEL. 

scarce  at  this  time  of  year,  he  concluded  he  would,  upon 
this  particular  occasion,  infringe  a  little  upon  the  rules  of 
etiquette,  and  made  a  thrust  with  his  fork  at  the  remain- 
ing slice.  The  Judge,  who  had  been  watching  his  ope- 
rations in  mute  astonishment,  had  hardly  commenced. 
As  every  slice  disappeared  from  the  platter,  the  chances 
of  going  to  bed  supperless  continued  to  increase ;  this, 
together  with  the  fact  that  his  servant  had  not  suppered, 
threw  him  completely  off  his  balance  when  the  last  piece 
was  about  to  be  taken.  He  thereupon  seized  a  fork  in 
both  hands,  raised  it  perpendicularly  over  the  meat,  and 
thrust  it  through  it  with  tremendous  force  just  as  the  sucker 
was  in  the  act  of  raising  it  from  the  platter,  and  leaning 
over  the  table  towards  him  at  the  same  time,  he  said — 

"Are  you  aware,  sir,  that  this  meat  is  mine,  and  that  I 
do  not  intend  you  shall  have  any  more  ?" 

"I  war  not  aware  of  that,  hoss,  but  a  ham,  like  a  tur- 
key, are  a  monstrous  onconvenient  bird — a  little  too  much 
for  one,  and  not  quite  enough  for  two.  I'm  done — I'll 
absquatulate." 

He  then  retired  from  the  table,  and  left  the  Judge  to 
finish  his  supper.  This  over,  they  collected  around  the 
fire,  and  passed  off  the  evening  in  listening  to  several 
amusing  anecdotes  from  the  Judge.  One  of  them  I  ven- 
ture to  relate,  although  it  will  appear  in  print  but  weak 
and  feeble  when  compared  to  the  rich,  racy,  quaint,  and 
humorous  style  in  which  it  came  from  his  lips : — 

When  I  came  to  the  Western  country  I  took  the  route 
by  New  Orleans,  and  then  embarked  on  a  steamboat  for 
St.  Louis.  Boats  were  much  longer  in  making  the  trip 
then  than  they  are  at  present,  and  passengers  were  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  every  expedient  to  while  away  the  dull 
monotony  of  the  voyage.  We  had  on  board  a  heteroge- 
neous mass  of  humanity  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States. 


ANECDOTES    OF   WESTERN    TUAVEL.  185 

There  was  the  backwoodsman  and  the  Yankee,  whose 
manners  presented  a  very  striking  contrast,  although  ori- 
ginally coming  from  the  same  primitive  stock.  Yet  the 
force  of  habit,  association,  and  necessity,  have  made  them 
antipodes.  The  latter  of  my  countrymen  has  the  reputa- 
tion for  being  very  inquisitive,  yet  as  far  as  my  experience 
goes,  I  must  confess  the  Western  man  manifests  as  great 
a  desire  to  obtain  personal  information,  as  his  countryman 
farther  East.  For  example,  I  met  with  one  man  who 
approached  me,  and  without  any  preliminaries,  said — 

"  Wall,  steamboat,  whar  ar  you  from  ?" 

Knowing  from  his  enunciation  that  he  was  a  Western 
man,  and  might  be  prejudiced  against  a  Yankee,  I 
replied — "I'm  from  Virginia." 

"  What  part  of  Virginia  ?" 

"  Let  me  see — I'm  from  Norfolk." 

"  Ah  !  I  know  a  heap  of  folks  in  Norfolk.  You  know 
Mike  Trotter  ?" 

"No." 

"  Know  Jake  Johnson  ?" 

"  No,  I  believe  not." 

"  Don't  know  Jake  ?  I  thought  everybody  knew  Jake- 
I  suppose  you  know  Billy  Bennett  ?" 

"  I  believe  I that  is,  I  presume  I  do." 

"  Presume  !  of  course  you  do,  if  you  war  raised  in  Nor- 
folk. How  did  Billy  get  out  of  that  scrape  with  Sam 
Smith  ?" 

"  Well,  I  declare  I've  almost  forgotten  ;  but  it  strikes 
me  that  he  settled  it  by  arbitration,  or  something  of  that 
sort." 

"  Settled  the  devil !  Look  here,  steamboat,  I  b'lieve 
you're  a  d — d  sight  more  of  a  Yankee  than  a  Virginian !" 

It  was  not  long  before  another  son  of  the  West  walked 
up  to  me,  and  said — 
1G* 


186  ANECDOTES   OF   WESTERN   TRAVEL. 

"  Wal,  hoss,  I  reckon  thar's  no  harm  in  asking  whar 
you  war  raised  ?" 

Having  a  compunctious  streak  pass  over  me  about 
this  time,  I  concluded  that  I  would  set  at  defiance  local 
prejudices,  and  tell  the  truth.  I  replied — "  Me  ?  I'm  from 
Connecticut,  sir." 

"Connecticut!  Connecticut!  Con-net-ti-cut!"  Clo- 
sing up  his  left  eye,  and  turning  up  the  right  towards  the 
hearers — «  I  never  hearn  of  that  place  afore,  if  I  did  d — n 
me." 

Among  the  passengers  who  came  aboard  at  New  Or- 
leans was  a  "  split  me"  young  buck  from  New  York,  on  a 
tour  of  pleasure  through  the  Western  States.  He  had 
never  before  been  far  from  Broadway,  and  he  regarded 
the  time  spent  away  from  that  fashionable  resort  as  so 
much  time  thrown  away ;  it  was  a  blank  in  his  existence 
that  could  never  be  filled  up.  He  had  been  but  a  few 
weeks  absent,  and  was  already  becoming  disgusted  with 
the  country,  and  longed  to  return  to  the  gayeties  of  the 
city.  His  peculiarities  were  new  to  the  backwoodsmen, 
and  he  was  looked  upon  by  them  as  an  original,  as  be- 
longing to  a  genus  of  the  race  biped  of  which  they  had 
before  no  conception.  He  had  brought  with  him  from 
the  city  all' the  paraphernalia  of  the  wardrobe  and  toilet, 
and  among  other  things,  a  very  beautiful  rose- wood  dress- 
ing case,  one  of  Tiffany's  latest  importations.  It  stood  in 
a  conspicuous  place  in  the  gents'  cabin,  and  soon  attracted 
the  observation  of  the  backwoodsmen.  , 

Their  curiosity  was  raised,  and  there  were  numerous 
speculations  as  to  its  use.  One  thought  it  a  money-box, 
one  a  gun-case,  and  others,  and  the  most  knowing  ones, 
that  it  was  a  Faro-box.  The  latter  opinion,  after  a  good 
deal  of  discussion,  prevailed,  and  they  arrived  at  the  una- 


ANECDOTES   OF   WESTERN   TRAVEL.  187 

nimous  conclusion  that  the  Broadway  gent  was  a  travel- 
ling "  Leg:"  in  disguise. 

'l'hereupon  they  resolved  to  give  him  an  invitation  to 
"open,"  and  collecting  together  in  the  forward  cabin, 
they  appointed  one  of  their  number  to  intimate  to  the 
gentleman  that  his  presence  there  with  the  necessary 
"  tools,"  would  be  agreeable  to  them. 

The  messenger  was  a  double-fisted  Mississippian,  who 
soon  found  the  exquisite,  and  approaching  him,  with  the 
right  side  of  his  face  screwed  up  until  the  eye  on  that 
side  closed,  (intending  it  for  a  sly  wink,)  and  beckoning 
with  his  finger  towards  him  at  the  same  time,  said  in  a. 
low  tone  of  voice — 

"  It's  all  right,  my  boy ;  get  out  your  old  <  sody  box' 
and  come  along,  and  give  us  a  t  turn.'  " 

The  dandy  looked  in  perfect  amazement  as  he  said — 
"Ah — ah — ah! — what  do  you  mean,  fellow?" 

"  I  say  it's  all  0.  K.  down  there" — pointing  with  his 
finger  over  his  left  shoulder — "  thar's  three  or  four  of  us 
down  river  boys  ready  to  start  the  fires  with  a  small  pile 
of  <  chips.'  You  understand,  now,  so  come  along — come 
along." 

"  Dem  you,  sa,  what  do  you  mean  ?  I  declare  I  don't 
comprehend  you,  fellar." 

"  Oh,  come  along,  we'll  put  'er  through  straight  from 
the  mark,  and  pile  on  the  chips  until  we  bust  you,  or  get 
bust  ourselves  ;  so  don't  try  to  play  possum  on  this  child. 
I  say  it  aint  no  use." 

At  this  the  dandy  walked  of! in  a  furious  passion,  con- 
sidering himself  most  grossly  insulted,  saying — "  Ah, 
Captain,  I  believe — 'pon  me  honour  I  do — that  the  savage 
fellar  means  to  blow  up  the  boat!" 

The  sporting  gents  could  not  understand  this,  and  they 
watched  his   motions  all  day,  following   him   from   one 


188  ANECDOTES    OF   WESTERN   TRAVEL. 

place  to  another.  Go  where  he  would  they  were  sure  to 
keep  him  in  sight.  Having  occasion  to  go  to  his  dress- 
ing case  before  night,  they  all  collected  around  him,  and 
looked  over  his  shoulder  while  he  was  unlocking  it.  On 
raising  the  lid,  the  first  article  that  presented  itself  was  a 
pair  of  boot-hooks.  When  they  saw  this,  one  of  them 
turned  away  with  an  air  of  disgust,  saying  to  the  others — 
"  Why  he's  one  of  them  d — d  dentistry  chaps,  after  all." 

Finding  that  they  were  not  likely  to  get  up  a  game, 
they  were  forced  to  resort  to  other  expedients  to  while 
away  the  dull  monotony  of  the  voyage  ;  and  as  the  New 
Yorker  was  very  credulous,  some  of  them  amused  them- 
selves at  his  expense  by  relating  to  him  the  most  impro- 
bable tales  of  backwoods  adventures,  hair-breadth  escapes 
from  savage  wild  beasts,  the  dangers  of  navigating  West- 
ern rivers,  blowing  up  of  steamboats,  running  foul  of 
snags,  &c,  &c.  He  swallowed  them  all,  and  they  had 
such  an  effect  upon  his  imagination,  that  he  was  afraid  to 
venture  out  of  sight  of  the  boat  when  it  stopped  to  take 
in  wood,  for  fear,  as  he  said,  of  "  encountewing  a  bear,  or 
some  other  howible  cweture."  He  was  constant^  on  the 
qui  vive  at  night,  expecting  some  accident  to  the  boat,  and 
wrould  pace  the  deck  for  hours  together,  trembling  at  every 
puff  of  the  engine,  as  if  he  expected  the  next  to  send  him  to 
the  bottom.  Seeing  the  captain  come  on  deck  one  night, 
he  approached  him,  when  the  following  dialogue  ensued : 

"  Ah — ah — ah,  capting,  do  you  really  have  any  sewi- 
ous  accidents  upon  this  howible  river?" 

"  Accidents  !  my  dear  fellow !  as  a  matter  of  course  we 
do." 

«  Ah !  and  pray,  capting !  what  is  the  nature  of  them  ?" 

"Oh,  sometimes  we  run  foul  of  a  snag,  or  sawyer; 
then  again,  we  occasionally  collapse  a  boiler  and  blow 
up  sky  high." 


ANECDOTES  OF  WESTERN  TRAVEL.       189 

«  The  devwal  you  do !  you  don't  say  so !  does  any- 
body ever  get  killed,  capting  ?" 

"  Nothing  is  more  common,  my  good  fellow ;  but  we 
soon  get  used  to  such  little  things,  and  don't  mind  them. 
If  we  get  up  to  St.  Louis  without  an  accident,  we  may 
consider  ourselves  extremely  fortunate." 

The  dandy  looked  perfectly  aghast,  and  turned  blue  at 
this  announcement. 

"How  perfwectly  howible,  capting!  I  wish  I  was 
back  in  Bwoadway  again,  by  quist  I  do." 

By  the  time  the  Judge  had  finished  this  story  it  was 
bedtime,  and  the  mammy  made  up  a  field  couch  upon 
the  floor  in  front  of  the  fire,  to  which  she  consigned  all 
her  guests :  the  Judge  took  the  soft  side  of  a  pine  pun- 
cheon, and  ensconcing  himself  as  comfortably  as  possible, 
was  soon  courting  the  embraces  of  Morpheus.  The  family 
disappeared  one  by  one,  until  finally  none  remained. 
Everything  had  become  perfectly  still  and  quiet,  except 
the  measured  and  sonorous  breathing  of  the  sucker,  upon 
whom  the  ham  appeared  to  operate  as  a  powerful  opiate. 
The  Judge  had  fallen  into  a  restless  doze,  and  was  dream- 
ing of  hungry  suckers  and  cannibals.  He  fancied  himself 
upon  a  boundless  prairie,  pursued  by  a  pack  of  suckers 
on  all  fours,  following  him  with  the  speed  of  race-horses, 
and  giving  tongue  at  every  jump  like  so  many  blood- 
hounds ;  but  instead  of  unmeaning  howls,  their  enuncia- 
tion was  distinct  and  audible,  every  note  of  which  fell 
upon  his  ears  like  a  death-knell — it  seemed  to  say  «  h-a-m ! 
h-a-m-m  !  h-a-a-m-m !"  He  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost 
to  escape  his  savage  pursuers,  but  notwithstanding  all  his 
efforts,  they  appeared  to  gain  on  him. 

"  And  on,  on,  on !  no  stop,  no  stay  ! 
Up  lull,  down  dale,  and  far  away !" 


190  ANECDOTES    OF   WESTERN   TRAVEL. 

He  occasionally  cast  his  eyes  back  to  see  if  they  did  not 
begin  to  tire,  but  no  ;  the  further  they  went,  the  faster 
they  came.  They  bounded  over  hill  and  valley,  with  the 
constant  cry  of  h-a-m,  h-a-m-m,  h-a-a-m-m  !  until  finally, 
the  Judge,  becoming  weak  and  exhausted,  sank  down 
upon  the  prairie,  and  awaited  the  coming  of  the  foremost 
sucker,  who,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  snapping  his 
teeth  like  a  hungry  wolf,  seized  him  by  the  thigh  with 
his  teeth,  and  threw  him  over  his  head.  Turning  around, 
he  seized  him  again,  and  repeated  the  operation,  until  the 
Judge  fancied  the  features  of  his  face  became  changed 
into  those  of  a  hog.  He  ventured  to  put  out  his  hand  to 
ascertain  if  it  was  tangible,  when  a  sensation  of  cold  ran 
through  his  frame,  and  a  tremendous  punch  in  the  ribs, 
accompanied  with  an  ugh — ugh — ugh — awoke  him. 

He  found  to  his  great  astonishment  that  his  hand  was 
holding  a  hog  by  the  snout,  that  had  taken  possession  of 
the  side  of  his  bed  nearest  the  door,  and  was  manifesting 
his  displeasure  at  the  familiarity  of  the  Judge  by  the  savage 
grunts  that  had  awakened  him.  Being  an  old  voyager, 
he  did  not  let  this  little  mishap  disturb  him  in  the  least, 
but  very  quietly  and  deliberately  raised  a  puncheon,  which 
he  found  loose  under  his  bed,  and  thrusting  down  mister 
hog,  he  closed  the  hole,  and  slept  quietly  until  morning. 

The  next  morning  he  arose  early  and  resumed  his 
journey,  leaving  the  sucker  and  the  mammy  in  great 
distress  at  the  supposed  loss  of  their  pig. 


A  RUNNING  FIGHT  UPON  THE  RACKENSAC. 

In  the  Fall  of  1836,  I  found  myself  in  Little  Rock,  the 
capital  of  Arkansas,  and  very  tired,  too,  of  that  «  brisk" 
little  city.  I  came  to  the  determination,  therefore,  of  leav- 
ing it,  and  going  down  the  river. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  but  one  boat  bent 
upon  the  downward  trip,  and  that  a  small  one,  a  very 
small  one  indeed.  To  look  at  her  as  she  lay  by  the  land- 
ing, she  reminded  you  of  a'large  hen-coop,  with  a  stove- 
pipe sticking  out  of  the  roof.  She  was  so  small  that  the 
most  remote  point  of  her  that  you  could  reach  from  the 
furnace,  was  just  near  enough  to  submit  you  to  the  agree- 
able process  of  a  slow  baking ;  and  heaven  knows  an 
Arkansas  sun  is,  about  this  season,  hot  enough  of  itself. 
She  was  named  the  "  Olive  Branch,"  though  a  less  appro- 
priate name  could  hardly  have  been  thought  of — for  instead 
of  being  a  boat  of  pacific  principles,  she  was  the  most 
quarrelsome,  card-playing,  whiskey-drinking  little  craft,  it 
has  ever  been  my  misfortune  to  put  my  foot  upon.  Tho- 
roughly tired,  however,  of  "  life  in  Little  Rock,"  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  leave  it ;  so  on  the  morning  of 
the  boat's  departure,  I  stepped  aboard,  paid  my  pas- 
sage-money, and  was  soon  on  my  way  down  stream.  My 
fellow-passengers  amounted  to  about  two  dozen — rough- 
looking  fellows — hunters,  planters,  traders,  and  "  legs," 
all  on  their  way  for  the  lower  country. 

(191) 


192       A   RUNNING   FIGHT    UPON   THE    11ACKENSAC. 

About  ten  miles  below  Little  Rock,  our  captain  put  in  to 
the  shore,  and  took  on  board  a  tall  lathy  gentleman,  with  a 
peculiarly  hang-dog  look,  whom  I  had  frequently  seen  in 
the  city,  and  who  went  by  the  sobriquet  of  "  The  Colo- 
nel." I  imagine  that  he  held  some  public  office  in  the 
"  Rackensac"  capital. 

The  evening  before  our  departure  I  had  accidentally 
overheard  the  following  fragment  of  a  dialogue  between 
him  and  the  captain  of  the  "  Olive  Branch." 

"  You'll  take  me  through  for  two  hundred,  cap'n  ?" 

"  TJiree  hundred,  Kernel — three — not  a  figger  less." 

"  Too  much,  cap'n — say  two-fifty  ?" 

"  No !  three  hundred — look  at  the  risk  !" 

"  Oh,  hang  the  risk! 

"  Besides,  it  hurts  the  repitation  of  the  boat." 

«  Say  you'll  take  two-seventy !" 

"  No !  the  even  three  hundred.      I'll  take  you  through 

as  slick  as  goose  grease — I've  said  it,  and  by I'll  do 

it,  in  spite  of  all." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  must  have  it — here  ;  you'll  find 
me  in  Willis's  Woods,  ten  miles  below.  What  time  will 
you  be  down  ?" 

"By  ten  in  the  morning,  or  a  leetle  after." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  wait  for  you." 

So  saying,  the  Colonel  walked  off,  and  I  saw  no  more 
of  him  until  he  became  my  fellow  passenger  at  Willis's 
Woods. 

From  what  I  had  heard  and  seen,  I  concluded  that  he 
had  found  the  "  Rock"  a  little  too  hot  for  him.  All  this, 
however,  was  no  business  of  mine ;  and  getting  as  far 
from  the  furnace  as  I  could,  I  sat  down  by  the  after  guard, 
determined  upon  making  myself  as  comfortable  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit.  The  excessive  heat  had  made 
me  drowsy,  and  I  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 


a  running  riariT  UPON  TnE  RACKENSAC.      193 
«  They  are  comin*,  captin !  they're  comin' !  By  - 


that's  old  Waley  on  the  gray !  I  could  tell  him  ten 
miles  off!" 

These  words,  with  an  unusual  running  to  and  fro  over 
the  boat,  awoke  me  from  my  nap,  and  on  starting  up  and 
looking  towards  the  shore,  I  beheld  about  a  dozen  horse- 
men coming  at  full  gallop  down  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  apparently  endeavouring  to  overtake  the  boat.  They 
were  mostly  dressed  in  jeans'  coats,  with  broad-brimmed 
white  hats,  and  each  of  them  balanced  upon  his  left 
shoulder  about  six  feet  of  a  Kentucky  rifle.  They  were 
the  sheriff  and  his  posse  in  pursuit  of  a  runaway  defaulter, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  on  board  the  "Branch." 

"What's  to  be  done,  cap'n?"  inquired  the  Colonel, 
evidently  alarmed  at  the  approach  of  the  sheriff's  party. 

"Done!  why,  nothing!  Do  you  s'pose  I'm  goin' to 
let  that  party  stop  my  boat  ? 

"  But  they  may  fire  upon  you !" 

"  Let  them  fire  and  be !    Didn't  I  expect  all  that  ? 

Here,  Bill !  Nick  !  get  out  the  muskets,  and  make  ready 
to  handle  'em !  Look  out,  passengers  !  go  to  larboard  and 
get  behind  the  cabin !  Now,  Nettles,  keep  her  close 
to  the  bank,  and  give  'em  a  wide  berth !  Do  you 
hear  ?" 

Not  having  any  ambition  to  be  killed  in  the  quarrel  of 
an  Arkansas  defaulter,  I  took  the  captain's  hint  and  got 
behind  the  cabin,  where  I  found  most  of  my  fellow  pas- 
sengers already  assembled.  We  had  hardly  ensconced 
ourselves  in  a  safe  corner,  when  the  voice  of  "Old  Waley" 
roared  out  from  the  shore — 

"  Stop  the  boat,  or  we'll  fire  into  her!" 

"  Fire  and  be !"  was  the  captain's  reply. 

He  had  hardlv  uttered  the  words,  when  a  bullet  was 
17 


194       A   RUNNING   FIGHT   UPON    THE    RACKENSAC. 

heaid  crashing  through  the  glass  top  of  the  wheel-house. 
I  could  not  help  thinking  that  Mr.  Nettles,  the  pilot,  was 
placed  in  rather  a  nettlish  position,  but  it  appeared  after- 
wards that  the  lower  part  of  the  wheel-house  was  lined 
with  strong  sheet-iron,  and  was  bullet-proof.  Whether 
this  precaution  had  been  taken  in  anticipation  of  such 
skirmishes,  I  never  learnt;  at  all  events,  it  was  useful  in 
the  present  emergency,  as  Mr.  Nettles,  in  a  crouching 
position,  could  sufficiently  manage  the  boat,  while  he  was 
sheltered  from  the  shot  to  all  intents  and  purposes. 

Bang!  —  spang!  —  whiz!  and  several  bullets  came 
crashing  through  the  slight  frame-work  of  the  cabin- 
windows  ;  some  struck  the  wheel-house,  while  others 
glanced  upon  the  iron  chimneys,  causing  them  to  ring  and 
vibrate. 

But  our  captain,  upon  his  side,  was  not  idle,  and  a 
volley  of  musketry  from  the  crew  sent  two  or  three  of  the 
sheriff's  officers  sprawling  upon  the  bank. 

In  this  way  a  running  fire  was  kept  up  for  several 
miles — the  boat  going  at  the  top  of  her  speed — while  the 
sheriff  and  his  posse  kept  pace  with  her,  galloping  along 
the  bank,  loading  and  firing  in  their  stirrups. 

Victory,  however,  at  length  declared  for  our  captain — 
for  the  river  gradually  widened,  and  as  the  boat  was 
kept  close  to  the  larboard  bank,  the  rifle  bullets  fell  far 
short  of  their  mark.  Seeing  this,  the  pursuing  party 
were  reluctantly  compelled  to  halt,  expressing  in  their 
looks  and  gestures  the  highest  degree  of  anger  and 
mortification. 

"  Come,  boys,"  shouted  the  captain,  «  give  them  a  last 
volley  and  a  cheer  !" 

A  volley  of  musketry  was  followed  by  loud  cheer- 
ing from  every  part  of  the  little  boat,  in  which  even  the 


A   RUNNING   FIGHT   UPON   THE   RACKENSAC.       195 

passengers  joined,  so  exciting  is  the  cheer  of  victory,  even 
in  a  bad  cause. 

"Now,  Kernel,"  cried  the  captain,  "I've  got  you 
out  of  a  tarnal  scrape — ten  thousand  at  least — so  we 
expect  you  to  stand  treat  for  all  hands !  Hurrah !  bring  on 
the  licker!" 


THE  END. 


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